Month: November 2012
American Sentence, No. 4
You can’t excerpt it nor find it in a Google search, now scratch your arm.
improv for bernie, 111820121309 [draft1]
The thing is wide & white
But bearing a ring of amber
Which carries across memory
_like a whisper-washed hair or
Blade, but I think back on her question
And yes, I am killing myself adoringly
Melting my body to the mat
For this knuckle of pint. When I think
Of her the follies rise,
Precepts enjamb in pain, a sweet round
Aftertaste stalking the long dark nap.
Don’t change a word. You
Are wise & wind torn & yr ears are tuned
_to just
Frequencies — the grass whimpers above each follicle
Lip quivering by truth-run conceit. We have
Suffered, but in my ocean, beside your ocean, …
I think: “Bare it,” I say.
Painting with Dim Light
III
How do we adjust
For the right leg
Shorter, so
We fear
The men limping toward the blaring shore
Except those
Who do not
They skim thin-edged along
And do not.
II
Command: Don’t tweak or complicate
What do we carry to our thanksgiving?
What do we parcel away?
Carve lines straight and strong
Hum the flesh thin, earnest and true.
& do not waste language like another plastic bag
Tied, knotted, tossed into the trash
Another plastic bag.
I
I’m more interested in the uniform
The too-dark denim, hand-hem; the
Wide, egg-white sun-styled shoes, shuffle
Ashore the rug; her basket
Full of New Romance.
for Wayne Koestenbaum