JANUARY
Somewhere inside my soul
I try to talk about this
in a way that will make
you be drawn to me.
I sing of the me you
are in one last
early try to let you live.
If I imagine myself
in your absence, nothing
manages to happen.
But in the wild light
of January I invite us
both into a secret sorrow
and turn the meaning off.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Paul Hoover
It was Paul Hoover who first introduced me to the works of Paul Hoover. Thanks, Paul. Paul's latest book of poems, 56 SONNETS, is magical, funny, and flarfy.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
THE RAPTURE
An unusual haze,
having lingered for days,
rose up and started to change
into an animal so strange
hitherto empty phrases filled
themselves with meaning.
Light
pierced the night
in spots the dark had missed.
Heating devices hissed
our warnings. Cleaning
fluid appeared where spilled
milk had splattered.
None of it actually mattered,
since the earth soon collapsed
into a gorgeous heap of ashes.
God
appeared in the shape
of a cod
fish eating a grape.
An unusual haze,
having lingered for days,
rose up and started to change
into an animal so strange
hitherto empty phrases filled
themselves with meaning.
Light
pierced the night
in spots the dark had missed.
Heating devices hissed
our warnings. Cleaning
fluid appeared where spilled
milk had splattered.
None of it actually mattered,
since the earth soon collapsed
into a gorgeous heap of ashes.
God
appeared in the shape
of a cod
fish eating a grape.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
AIR
Unmade mistakes wait
impatiently around the corner.
I think of a promise's
moist petals as I press
you into the pages
of this book. You were
wet when I met you,
alive with what mattered
more than breath.
Now you are paler
than the last memory
I have of you standing
outside, looking around
for traces of the air.
Unmade mistakes wait
impatiently around the corner.
I think of a promise's
moist petals as I press
you into the pages
of this book. You were
wet when I met you,
alive with what mattered
more than breath.
Now you are paler
than the last memory
I have of you standing
outside, looking around
for traces of the air.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Thanks, Barry
It was, in fact, Barry Schechter (author of the amazing novel, THE BLINDFOLD TEST) who first introduced me to the works of Peter Handke and Donald Barthelme.
Monday, May 10, 2010
ELECTRIC
There was no time
left in my clock
(whose tick was missing)
when I went in
to check up on yesterday.
A door that didn't
close behind me seemed
not to know what to do.
The moon kept track
of what couldn't happen
(the dish and the spoon
both frozen in place)
as I carefully made my way
away from what seemed electric.
There was no time
left in my clock
(whose tick was missing)
when I went in
to check up on yesterday.
A door that didn't
close behind me seemed
not to know what to do.
The moon kept track
of what couldn't happen
(the dish and the spoon
both frozen in place)
as I carefully made my way
away from what seemed electric.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Or So It Would Seem
Roussel's accidentally surrealistic writings remind me of the way rain sometimes falls without seeming to mean to.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
BIRTHDAY POEM FOR SAID
Because you are so much more
than you seem to see
in the mirror we call "you",
we'd like to take this opportunity
to remind you of yourself.
Look! There you are again
being brighter than April
in all its glory is. And
there you stand where only
you can be. Because we're not
you (since only you are), we'd
like to invite you to a
party we throw in your
honor every time we think of you.
Because you are so much more
than you seem to see
in the mirror we call "you",
we'd like to take this opportunity
to remind you of yourself.
Look! There you are again
being brighter than April
in all its glory is. And
there you stand where only
you can be. Because we're not
you (since only you are), we'd
like to invite you to a
party we throw in your
honor every time we think of you.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
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