5/17/07

i wrote a whole punch of poems in my journal on the seventeenth and finally feel the urge to share them... this urge partially brought on by my recognizing the lack of poetry here recently and acknowledging that i don't have the gusto to write new poems for you right now. hope you like...


relive (you)

reborn the finch
enter the spring in a Frank O'Hara play

we forget our friends
and avoid our family

hord away lovers
hold long ago affairs (closer)

evertyhing is okay -
i'm waiting to start -

bit it feels like you love
everyone of them (at first)

and i believed you
when you said you loved me too.


summer

he used an electric typewriter
to steal my heart


*red poetry to be insider*

lift the pages
the dates are old
and she goes
in and out of couplets
for different occations

she only practices her penmenshp here
were her hand is good
you love her less
the perfect word is neat
but too tired yet

where she crosses lines
you love her more - like
see through tops to secret things
she won't show you
because you never ask.


butter

felt guilty all of a sudden
for reading another man's poetry


reactive

I
i can only write what
the 'she' thinks

and she has no outward reaction,
she just writes and breathes

II
she wants to write
on the back of all the pages


untitled dream

i dreamt that kate and ling had to leave the program and the country because mark k took my car. my car was small and read. i left the engine running when i went in to get them. i was in a bad mood. i told paul to get out of my house and that it was all of his fault even though i clearly didn't live there and his ugly, scared face stuck in my mind. if only i could have apologized to him. but i cried for kate and ling and cursed myself for leaving mary to herself - especially in a dream.


untitled poem for jack

jack wanders by
leaving the window
and says he loves me
on his way back.





*