One Year
Let the year — crack like an egg
the yew of it drying out your mouth
Spit
if you can
Amber
if you can
— There
is a bird inside you it is
flapping the cage apart
08 March 2017
Poem-A-Day #365 : One Year
Labels:
2017,
bird,
breaking,
color,
egg,
February,
mouth,
nervousness,
passing,
poem,
poem-a-day 2.0,
poetry,
spit,
time,
winter,
year,
yellow
05 March 2017
Poem-A-Day #364 : Weird Sisters
Weird Sisters
I dreamt about The Golden Girls singing
the abused child they had taken in was soothed to rest
and I awoke -
In some television Miami a pastel universe
expands quickly from Blanche's ranch house
not a bang an immense zoom in
Here is the universe
and now a kitchen table where the fates of everyone
are knitted and decided over a very large cake
Dorothy holding the umbilicus knowing when to shear
Blanche measuring out the lengths of twine
Rose picking the thread
Sophia standing watch
deciding which skeins to toss into which basket
all the while singing Bobby Darin
I dreamt about The Golden Girls singing
the abused child they had taken in was soothed to rest
and I awoke -
In some television Miami a pastel universe
expands quickly from Blanche's ranch house
not a bang an immense zoom in
Here is the universe
and now a kitchen table where the fates of everyone
are knitted and decided over a very large cake
Dorothy holding the umbilicus knowing when to shear
Blanche measuring out the lengths of twine
Rose picking the thread
Sophia standing watch
deciding which skeins to toss into which basket
all the while singing Bobby Darin
Labels:
2017,
bea arthur,
betty white,
estelle getty,
fate,
February,
golden girls,
miami,
moirai,
poem,
poem-a-day 2.0,
poetry,
rue mcclanahan. big bang,
television,
time,
tv,
winter
04 March 2017
Poem-A-Day #363 : 36
36
6 years pass
& you seem to remember the cake
from the party
There were faces then
instead of paper bags thinking themselves
into humanity
At the corner of bakery
& Waldorf School was the same feeling
you always have about relationships
What the fuck
& then what the fucking fuck
The impulse to speed away
is so strong that the blur lines come in packs of 100
for $.99 at Party City
They run the gamut from black
to neon anime hair
& even then they all seem too realistic
Looming near the Barclay's Center
the Nets seem to want to play water polo instead
of basketball
And the apartment you sat in
for 7 years melts
into a pool of metallic Studebaker gold
Here is a door frame
it goes to the roof
& manages to deposit you in Bed-Stuy
Don't look back
it wants you to feel fear it can blood let
Instead stare into the ocean & feel its boil
6 years pass
& you seem to remember the cake
from the party
There were faces then
instead of paper bags thinking themselves
into humanity
At the corner of bakery
& Waldorf School was the same feeling
you always have about relationships
What the fuck
& then what the fucking fuck
The impulse to speed away
is so strong that the blur lines come in packs of 100
for $.99 at Party City
They run the gamut from black
to neon anime hair
& even then they all seem too realistic
Looming near the Barclay's Center
the Nets seem to want to play water polo instead
of basketball
And the apartment you sat in
for 7 years melts
into a pool of metallic Studebaker gold
Here is a door frame
it goes to the roof
& manages to deposit you in Bed-Stuy
Don't look back
it wants you to feel fear it can blood let
Instead stare into the ocean & feel its boil
Labels:
age,
aging,
basketball,
bed stuy,
birthday,
bounce,
Brooklyn,
crown heights,
February,
getting older,
history,
memory,
NYC,
poem,
poem-a-day 2.0,
poetry,
winter
Poem-A-Day #362 : Hearts Have A Way
Hearts Have A Way
I beat forever my heart don't want to
what of this house in my throat
The sun beam broken on sea shine is the summer of things
Cephalopod dreams and champagne wishes
are sponges to the blood stains from the crime scene
Dune this but forget how to dune that
On the lighthouse downs the horses come rabbit
they antler and speak of the black mass with raspberries
At 3 o-clock exactly there will be apocalypse loons
I forever my beat don't want to heart
but hearts have a way they spleen themselves through
I beat forever my heart don't want to
what of this house in my throat
The sun beam broken on sea shine is the summer of things
Cephalopod dreams and champagne wishes
are sponges to the blood stains from the crime scene
Dune this but forget how to dune that
On the lighthouse downs the horses come rabbit
they antler and speak of the black mass with raspberries
At 3 o-clock exactly there will be apocalypse loons
I forever my beat don't want to heart
but hearts have a way they spleen themselves through
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