Monthly Archives: November 2009
Palimpsest
By any other name, old under new over these layered spasms could be a lover’s ancestor in throes of it. The lover did not inherit that passion. It could be learned. Or unlearned. No. I cannot go back. I can … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
After Hours
It’s tension. This talk of the temporary. No shelter— but a stretch to represent. I would not live in a tent. To go to parties means meeting a man who says: “Let’s light up the Third Avenue Bridge.” Not burn … Continue reading
Filed under Night Poems
Marionette
Lapsing into flaps to close a cardboard box, she slips a note in afterward the way she forgets she can dance without strings. The tension for the right arm varies from that of the knee. Thighs weigh more than you … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
Gigantic Perspective
Skyways run between second floors in an irregular pattern she forgets to decode. But she believes she must duck when approaching beneath— her pedestrian movements can be so erratic, better not to risk it.
Filed under Civil Twilight or Dawn Poems
Then I Will (Day 2,518: Take 2)
Take away all definite articles overworn and shaped to fold as tightly as a cliché in a cheap plastic frame. Throw leftover scraps into a tipped over metal ash can before flames burn another year’s calendar beyond recognition. Steal another … Continue reading
Filed under Morning Poems
Sobriety Haiku
by Tom Altenhoff Seven years, so soon? A veil, a lifetime ago And now clarity.
Filed under Morning Poems
Threshold
I let the spider go. If the cat gets it, that’s his business. I’m employed by other fears—larger, invisible, transportable up the bedroom wall by other means.
Filed under Overnight Poems
Talking to the Streets
To avoid loose structure, she steps around the porous stretches of your concrete skin. Call it superstition—don’t step on the crack in any sidewalk. She calls it the wise way to construct a commitment from you in a faithless world. … Continue reading
Filed under Civil Twilight or Dawn Poems
How To Get Here
If this moment respects its elders, if I honor the memory of a lover’s laugh, silence, topography of an old acrylic seascape painting gently against my fingertips— if I could be so expansive with what’s left inside—broken, scarred, intact—I might … Continue reading
Filed under Morning Poems
