Wednesday, March 4, 2009

something I'll never forget

another human sound
outside my window:
the long ambiguous note
of the old tom who feuds endlessly
with the raccoons there.

I don't know
if the spooked moon
over the neighbor's house
is rising or setting.

myoclonic twitch

Today I've said "I'm sorry" approximately four times
and I've said "thank you" about the same.
I made my bed with the spreadsheets
of these equivocations as long as you knew me
and never asked what they felt like to sleep on.

There's a quiet grace to the
delineation of your skin
that i understand now.

It is as if I am on the ocean, the spar
of my shoulders
the bent planks of ribs
variously firm and pliable
altogether my best attempt at sturdiness.

It's been long enough to say
there's nothing left,
and there isn't.
I would have given us to gulls

but there are things under the surface, less well-understood
that erase more completely. This is morbid
and i didn't want that. So? So

there's a place in this for gulls,
their raucous garbage.
There's a place here for your skin
where the salt clamors in my hands,
and my eyes blink and blink
and open, and see the same ceiling. It's even
simple--that when there's nothing left,
no purchase for hungry mouths,
and we don't owe anything, still
I remember how you came
a buoyant, necessary thing
pushing me up out of the shipwreck.

--and

since I found you I've gotten greedy, and
I am kept close by my own wanting, a sea-shell orbit
spiraling into memory and back into the world.
i am buoyant and insistent as driftwood
hooked out of the tide by a dune. waiting for you
i join the birds' loud keening,
our raucous business messy and unfulfilled.
I should be subtle, and patient, but my squalls are honest
and i am attached to them, to the language of gulls--
I miss you, I like missing you, let me see you.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

the spy

The spy holds a slide to the light.
The slide is a distraction. In the slide
his son plays by a pool as his wife looks on.

The spy pours a shot and drinks it.
He looks at himself in the mirror.
He thinks, "There is only so much
time."

The spy is the best spy in the world.
He thinks of it as doing his job.
His family is asleep.
He puts the liquor away.
He looks at the slide again.
He remembers the day he took it.

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