Monthly Archives: July 2010
Atomic Number 13
Afterthoughts dance a revel before me in their borrowed tunics and repurposed top hats. I would like to see that cellar retrofitted beneath the surface that cannot be defined. I imagine how it would be to submerge an old Airstream— … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
In Defense of Your Grandmother’s
Vo-tech, high-rise stack of comic book spines, staples get removed. I’m not ready to give up Babel or what Borges said. I won’t slam.
Filed under Afternoon Poems
No. 9 or So
Not built for long-term love excursions, she seeks a glimmer in a warmer gray—couldn’t draw a picture to convey her way through an open door. To fiddle with a lock and swing into a door jam is the extent of … Continue reading
Filed under Night Poems
Vitamin E
My thighs have turned a bloodless white. A dry heaving wind Marilyn Monroes my dress. A tiny globe exposed, I walk inside city limits—checking, checking, checking those boundaries I installed with bare feet and the promise of late July rain. … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
Light in the Alley
Tone deaf, color blind to the hues of a man’s gestures. Bored, shy, turned on, off—who can tell? Gossip dug out of a dumpster, laid in the mid-summer grass to dry out, to cure well enough for a taste. I … Continue reading
Filed under Morning Poems
Fear Is a Four Letter Word—And So What
Someone drove a Nash rambler into my heart. See these burn scars. I’m knitting them into poems fast as I can. Fear is a cross-stitch I’m still learning how to work into a pattern. Perfection is for the gods.
Filed under Overnight Poems
On the Remake
“Then nothing will remain of the iron age And all these people but a thigh-bone or so, a poem Stuck in the world’s thought, splinters of glass In the rubbish dumps, a concrete dam far off in the mountain . … Continue reading
Filed under Overnight Poems
Avowal
Do I dare—I do not— to buy a snuff bottle. Hand-painted, it comes in a small gold thread embroidered box with a latch. If a peach adorned its glass shell, would I then? Afraid to ask questions, I let wondering … Continue reading
Filed under Afternoon Poems
It Turns On
a dime on the coffee bar tile floor to pick up, orange traffic cones inverted in the sidewalk to ponder. It’s a sign not to fall into warning funnels before predictions of tornado sirens blare over the radio. The handsome … Continue reading
Filed under Night Poems
Medium High
“Poetry doesn’t know: The air conditioner Not in use in winter Is like my hopes— Half in, half out.” —Jack Kerouac, from “Richmond Hill Blues” (Book of Blues) I have no air conditioner. No dishwasher. I have no washing machine. … Continue reading
Filed under Civil Twilight or Dawn Poems
