January 2010
4 posts
“We come to Blood Guilt Avenue. 7500 Blood Guilt Avenue. Right next to the Azalea...”
– John Fahey, “Neighborhood”
Poem for Wurlitzer
You probably don’t want to hear from me
because I am only a boy.
Yet diamond-sized diamonds are in your sandals
all over again, the window said
to some gatherers.
They had a powerful march
they called the Shattering March
that popped when you touched it right,
right on the cymbal.
I have to cradle it now
as I groom it to a capital F
Forest. And I’m nice enough myself
to...
Dream Where I Walk into Stained Glass
You walked into me,
the old pile of windchimes,
and let off the blouse like an orchard
to watch me unfolding. Machineless.
Revolving. To print out the night
you walked through dark glass
straight into the door.
My hand was on thumbprints like a sky
waiting for tectonic plates and I fell
down my body straight into my mouth
just to say hello like this.
Good morning, stairwell.
The...