Saturday, June 27, 2009
Word like a poultice I put on your chest
Words like a stew you give me when I am hungry
Words like a cell that endlessly divides
Words like a membrane between us
Words like a stepping stone across the narrow river
Words like a fragile row boat in a choppy sea
Words like a wand
Words like a Swiss Army knife
Words like kites, like balloons
Words like a subtle addiction
Words like a horse riding me swiftly to your house.
Words like a train that already left the station
Words like curtains blowing
Words like ducks in a pond
Words like a Buddha statue
Words like a raspberry staining my dress
Words like high walls we cannot see over
Words like chinks between the stones
Words that I want to claim as mine
Words that don’t belong to me
Words that I want to give to you
Words that fell out of the package on the way
Words that were said long before us
Words that are artifacts in the ground
Words like a glass of cider
Words that sputter drunkenly down the street
Words like attic roofs
Words like umbrellas
Words that pick up the high winds
Words that float down like a Victorian governess
Words that hanging gardens
Words like those who have abandoned us.
Words like us
Words like us.
a craving for nicotine.
then the fire
the sun dawns when sleep is impossible.
they come back
not holding hands or in groups
but every way you turn your head
they are beneath your eyelids like heartbeats.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Some of us were given away at birth
To satisfy our mother’s cravings
And we know it even if we remain at home
Throwing chicken bones in the attic
and casting fortunes until childhood passes
These days, most days I just wait
for night and the glow of electronics
love is banter from light boxes
I wonder if I have only written to myself
Later, I scan the evidence
Most of it disappeared.
Between he and I, we don’t know who is
Whom. Between us, we don’t know if our bodies
are text. Texting, I fall away into the dark
my body a jumble of letters, a ticker tape
across Columbus Circle. a broadcast from
Rapunzel Towers in two steady beams.
Love is a radio sound
made to chase away ghosts
When we turn it off we are startled at the relief.
Quiet, followed by a very bearable loneliness
Tomorrow we will want its static again
Tomorrow, he will garden rampions
I will crave their taste without knowing their taste.
Tomorrow, my mother will call
Wants to know am I coming on vacation
And did I get a haircut yet.
I am taking away the room
the long room
when it rains
I listen to the radio.
As night progresses
it is getting dark
the woods are getting closer
you just look out
from the letter box
not saying goodbye
you never said goodbye.
it wasn't even raining.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
I will be blamed.
like the silence since you left
has grown slower.
Now i watch the doors
their changing shapes.
Watch the ash grow
listen to the church bell
the bare trees
criss cross the sky.
Friday, June 5, 2009
to come back
cannot be done.
along the edge of the woods
It is an unusual moon
but it doesn't rain
easy the walk here
I like having this to myself
I like the breeze
it is not far past
the wooden bench of a fallen tree
last years leaves left
Speak again soon.
by the river banks reeds reflect
dog rose bending
as the rain falls
the traffic in the distance.
In the cushions memory I like that I see you
the window steaming up here
in the kitchen by the kettle
it is true we loved
not long gone
I imagine never coming home
the long slow days touch
on the rim
in the borders
traffic and yellow cabs
59th St and 8th Ave.
Because you have gone too far away now
with sweet seedless black grape
the thinning river
sun ripening tomato. fountains, distance from monuments
the stone houses