Joseph M. Gerace
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One Long Fucking Question for Michael Robbins
What I’ve learned about long walks of course Was taught by the whiskers of a reservation man Lashing a horse Sterile tracts of pale kentucky blue grey shale Don’t take them Or take them seldom by mail Stretching out like a dying dog between The pickets and Queen Anne For a loss They can’t Be…
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American Womanhood
i see her sipping tea she wants to write the Great American Joke Book about consumerism sour-milk yellow sniffling yolk but they get in the way the hardcover wesleyan in a cable-knit sweater the canadian monthly masked in a methylin-soaked love letter hands up baby hands up “But if I said it was the only…
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untitled, 092920121223
it’s not enough to be clever; each little sound byte performance padded; deeper philosophies cold, carrying scaly sustenance; what is a poem if not a poem; a hard tea-thin blade dimpling the pink precious flesh of yr mother’s throat oh to bring her back; oh to save her; a poem —
art, audio, depression, desperation, entertainment, journal, lessons, life, literature, loss, love, meaning, media, mom, mother, poem, poetry, sadness, safety, self-doubt, self-help, sound, women -
untitled 9212012 [draft]
helpless to understand her dripping wet hair cast again salmon short shorts dipping sweets into coffee arhythmic now one cheek lips the seat of her chair like a slick, shimmering thing fighting back toward the sea her feet form and terror in flats, arc gently lifting the spirit reaches out across formica, bulk tile, thoughtless…
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untitled dreambook entry, 09122012xx
[i keep a blank moleskine next to my bed. i’ll wake up in starts and jot words, ideas. recently i rolled out of bed and found this entry. i’m not sure who wrote it. very weird. very minor editing.]
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a partial loss of grace [draft]
everything but her perfect breasts obscured by the city skyline man’s promise venial, finger-licking ultraviolent, genial …
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super villain, no. 1 [draft]
Firstly, I’m begging— please stop —Let’s settle this: I’ve done nothing With my life &Deserve no thickly patAcross a hunched back Ten fingers, ten toesLove music, hate snowMiddle class, average nose So, quit it with the praise.Here’s my escape plan — no matter how bad it seemsfor me, hold the ambulances: [090320122231]
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