who is ghost
who is ghost, is the
translucent almost
who is flotilla, is footless
is died and come back, who is sheet
and oooo who is remembered
is ghost is flicking
on and off the lights is brush
the shoulder with gauzy touch
who is whisper in ear whisper
of curtain in and out with breeze who is
flash is haze is gone
forgotten is ghost
the ones with different names now
the girl they say became a boy
who is she anymore who is he
who one time got kissed in a field
it was summer bare ankles dampened by night grass
who was uncurled is shook out
the candle with four
matches sunk in its wax
who any flame is
who is the prairie taken by it
the half made bed the half said word
before it folds up into the throat
the first time someone
took off your clothes
the clothes themselves
is ghost
From
Somewhere in the Middle
We’re somewhere in the
middle, and it turns
like a chin,
like earth on its spindle,
dressing, then stripping
again
depending on the light;
it turns out the same every time.
*
That is the way with
myth—
The door creaks open, and you
don’t even hear it, just
walk in.
*
At first the water was
cold;
we stood on a hinge in the shore.
Like the first autumn
leaf turned gold
among green,
the hinge was like a
shadow
drinking, then reflecting
light, a worn bronze seam
we didn’t yet know the inside of.
We craned our necks
to the sky, and the sea,
thousand-eyed, shrugged
and shrugged,
its doors cast wide.
*
Whatever stings us must
be good, right?
Find
Love in Brooklyn Now!
Or isolated t-storms.
Listen—my window fan’s on HI,
nobody’ll hear a thing. Rain flecks the dirty
sill clean…so for a minute at least, picture
what we’d do, no furniture in the next room. It’s true
my bed’s a thorny nest I
never really
let anyone into. But right now I’m roses, and here’s the
floor, you’re
welcome. What? a stabbing pain? forget it—
I’ll try to—I mean, would you mind
just saying the thing
that makes me
forget who I am. Forget me—
What’s your definition of a narcissist? (show
photo of father)—
Do I look like him? Oh, can’t we be someone elses
groping each other by
slatted light?—No, it’s the neighbor’s
kitchen, always on. Fluorescent, energy saver
(so save it—for yourself). Imagine putting the tailspin
back into your pants. I wanted to , and now don’t
know how: which button a
do I push—
Oh yes the floor (crack smile). It howls against you and
(sort of) I’m sorry but
everything’s better hard (can’t argue there) and I
promise
later I’ll pick off the
lint, & I don’t do that
for just anyone (Stop biting cuticle!). Please
believe I want you,
pussy willow, chocolate gold foil-coin,
don’t un-give the fly you
flashed. It’s raining studs. I only need to
carefully breathe alone a few moments, count to
what, nine?
sharpen my pencils.
Outside, the trucks
charging down the road hallelujah faster
(As if!)—as if they are teaching me to believe
I could get somewhere
by their methods—
If
Fear Were The Teacher
Run from the mouth, the
mouth will speak,
and all speech is lies
(you can’t see its little
holes)
Run from the eye, the eye
is never clear
the eye looks one way, changes
Run from the hand, the
hand will
bewitch you, the hand always wants
things to do, sweet pies
to stick its fingers into
Run from the face,
the face will change you
you will not recognize yourself
Run from the ear, it will
sit quietly
pretending it listens
Run from the arms, any
two
become the arms of your mother
Run from the throat, the
swallowing throat
the dream
you never recover from
where what feeds you
breaks you, eats you—your
wanting
a stain, the dreaming
all erosion all smear, see
it’s all been done, you
close your eyes eat air
disappear
Run from the legs, the
legs will trick you
(you think they can carry all this weight?) Go anywhere—
the legs will desert you
in a vast parking lot, no keys,
tar throbbing in the black sun, each car identical,
each stranger
a mute replica of someone you knew
|
