LargesseI stood in the dim fringesLargesse6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
of your party, watching
your table, the porcelain platter
set thick with olives,
stuffed with pimentos
glistening like tiny rubies.
I watched as your guests
enjoyed olives in handfuls,
came back to gorge again,
and thought I would like
just one olive, a nice one,
and would be grateful then.
retrogradein october we harvest but this is a poem and I am a mailbox and the type of stuttering half-winter in my city.retrograde2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
sometimes i shout the oklahoma radio rust, sometimes invent a dixie-cup field of red space as an argument for displacement v. disappearance- and when i'm lonely your district is peopled and settled by the babbled rivers in the architecture blueglow in writhing continents of jellyfish [which, as metaphors, predate political affiliation and the quaking earth]
And then all oak amplifiers in the mountain suicide, then all photorealized rivers jaundiced paleyellow from a draining sun.
I went out and came home to a fire on the street
I saw a car and a man suspended over the shoulder of the freeway, both motionless
I believe mars was in retrograde as I fucked a girl near a forest.
We harvested the crop, fucked, and then sat apart and alone in the dark,
because this is a poem.
fear, scandal, a monster!on some nights she would come to me, crawling out from her linen chrysalis, soot-lashed and covered in motel room residue. she would tell me of the river snakes that ripped through the swamp in quiet, discerning waves. it was the river snakes she thought of when she wept. "you are so lucky the one you love is your lover," says she. to this i can only nod because she does not know the pain of loving your lover.fear, scandal, a monster!3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
"you are so lucky. you are so lucky."
i thought of how lucky i am all the way to you and that night our pieces were scattered on ceramic tiles, convex and concave, adolescents and adolescence. as you fell into me i thought of her and you and the river snakes and her legs and your legs, tangled together, a doomed mobius strip, a scandal! and wondered if the river snakes, like i, leave ripples on the glassy swamps in fear of being forgotten.
when i leave your parents' house i will look to you and ask you to be good, promise you will be good. you will nod as you always do and tell m
redshiftI know that the exit is an infinite landscape post-peopleredshift2 years ago in Scraps More Like This
That we are not the accident but the mistake,
the blank revenge
There is a quiet each station predicts
I know the static and the constancy
I know of rumors of unmeasured color
I know the compressed lake inside the stomach,
vast and heavy
I've heard the loss as a rising vagueness,
a slow and discrete rapture
I know the wreck is not a butterfly
or a wave or a hall of lights.
I know that it is only inevitability reordered
until it resembles a canyon.
I know that I knew you once.