May 2009
3 posts
Like Love in a China-Shop
Like Love in a China-Shop Being the bricklayer’s beautiful daughter, I wrote things, saying: I am jealous of the bartender. And this is the art of laying: one on one. Being always in your brother’s, you make things, saying: These are wolves. This is clothing. And when eyes meet certain selves it’s an opening to skin. So with Troilus and Tristan you walked in, earthenware &...
Why Every Poem I Write is about My Mother
It’s been mother’s day for an hour, where I am & do you remember telling me to write a poem for you, mommy, but instead I beat out my own breath with the hard days, kicking strange within the certained room while you played safety, safety, for I love you, & you are me, be careful with our distinct way of speaking & we are, of course, enchanted. And so I slept & wept in wafers,...
Friends Among Free Noise
Friends Among Free Noise So that even music is most and other voices well a person is too much. I don’t remember how tall you were when I met you or when I started saving the afternoon for morning cigarettes, but I know that Spain will wrap you when words won’t. When months of waking up become a summer’s sleep. Conversation itself quietly fucks and a bed becomes the basis for one long walk...