My Lover as Miss Universe
Thing was, it was raining, and I missed you
And, I missed paper. I missed it really much.
I missed the soggy feel of it, the damp inkstains,
and the way that the slush would run down from your legs when it was over.
Runny. White eggs from a snow or bulletin or confetti or banners.
Then there was a mountaintop
And a car crash
(No doves)
And an extra battery that seemed to fit (nothing) or only the last sloop
It rolled on the floor
Did you trip?
Oh. I know that you did.
You pulled me close and told me that I had to trust you
I’m going to Baltimore you said
I’m going to get a job
Then you stood up and told me that we had to go
I figured it would happen
Could you give me the AI at least
Or at least let me feel what you feel
I think I said that
Then you said
No, not yet
Put your head on my breast, and I will watch you
Avatar Review
Avatar Review 10, the “Dreams” issue, is now up at http://avatarreview.net/AV10/
Birth poem for Solomon Grundy
*
I remember him taking Latin in year 1 of University, but for the life of me
I don’t remember tying my shoes. Did that happen? In year one?
*
He sits on the bench and she opens up her notebook/heart to him
She says let me show you my diamonds
They are like travel slides from a long and difficult journey
Pink and brown
Red and even more red
She says they represent the land
Little pieces of me
Here is my engagement
In the middle she puts the clocktower, with its tall, perfect spires
*
Now, here is the real church
A birthstone
This is not a place you can get to before me
She says think of it as a leaf
Think of it as pristine
We must extoll its blessings
It is like a relationship
The way things partly worked out
The way there is a lack of devastation, over here
The way there are rules, there are rules, there are rules
*
It is sinister though
The look in the bagman’s eye
Tom Selleck or Thomas Magnum
Sent to collect from her
Hairy chest and mustache
His warm tropical shirt contrasting
With her cold gray one
Does she have money
What will he do with her
Will she fit in the back of the car
He’s contemplating the book cover of the book she’s reading
Dostoevsky’s The Idiot
Probably not a book he’s read before
Probably not
She asks, have you read this page
Have you read this page
He doesn’t think so
They go on and on
And meanwhile the jewels shake in her hand
And she’s not even sure if she can remember him
She says
Come back in a week
I’ll have it then
*
This punishment though
This stone
If she acknowledges it she is done for
If she ignores it she is a fake
There is the moon
It is her headrest
It is the hardest one
It feels like a fist
This bright calamity
That is what she would call it if she had a name for this thing
It is bloody, bloodred, blood blood blood
Blood blood-moon
*
What if
He’s thinking of her?
From the archive: Five Days After the Blast
At least my language matters.
Learn Spanish.
In Walgreens
there is a like a small fortune
of the loose ends
of the world’s detritus
on sale.
I love it.
There are umbrellas.
There are walking sticks.
There are gauze and tinned meat.
There are saltines
and about a million magazines to read.
In Spanish
there is leche
there is agua
(la leche, el agua)
There is a TV stuck on channel 27…
on fuzz.
I’m excited.
I’ve taken some drugs from the pharmacy
and I’m going to wait for you
under the angled mirror
over by the hairbrushes.
Learn Italian.
When you get here
I want you to take my picture.
I want you to snap me up
with one of those disposable cameras
on aisle 11.
And then say bene, molto bene, muy bien.
There’s been no mistake.
Your shirt made me gravely ill
Green brown mausoleum
The way I feel certain about things
The way for example
6 men can gather around a coffin
And do it no good
The way for example
The word “Trowbridge”
Sounds like the word “drawbridge” and it sounds like the word “troll-bridge”
But it is not either one of them but just a street I used to live near
And where I once bought a pint of whiskey for a party
This was next door to the drycleaners where I picked up my suit
My grandfather was dying
Where was my damn suit
Where were my golden cufflinks
We got in the car
We went to the Plaza and rode to the 73rd Floor
The room was spinning
I wanted to fly far, far away from that and find myself on a different planet
Anthropomorphic Relapse
This way for Petunia
I feel certain to go
To go back
Back into the little restaurant and the little fire
I think I might have forgot you
I got undressed for that night and then I forgot the feeling
I forgot what it was like to be human
All that hating and biting
All that wanting of this thing or that thing
Wanting as food
I wanted food
I wanted to eat the meat raw and the vegetables cold
I wanted to dip the mushrooms in sauce
Today, when I got your note I thought it said
you should eat me with your fingers
I wanted to eat you
I wanted to dust your legs in cornmeal
I wanted to fry you in oil
