Notes from the sky Constellations coming down A sudden C-sharp; the fall of F-minor Chords being torn from the Milky Way The universe in a solemn key
Destitute for the brush of Bacon, who will depict you in some shunga scrolls. A statue from the Orient with no mind. Your eye shadow the flush tones of Dali. Wedding cake of a face, you sweeten the leaf of Arches. The bugs are dancing beneath your lamp like at a disco.
Sushi as an aesthetic pleasure. Sushi as status symbol. Sushi as art form. Bluefin tuna doomed. Salmon spoken for. Mackeral and halibut had it. Sea urchin and sardine goners. My ink spills like whale blood. Embattled octopus.
Outside it is silvery like a side of fish. Books are spread before me and coffee. Both are oxygen. I sip, trying to stay alive in this muck. My cat has had it (already), asleep at my feet. I’m trying to respond to my environment by writing this poem and then it’s off to work.Continue reading “A Thursday”
The salesmen are tall & talk on cellphones They pace & trade jokes; one is holding forms The showroom floor, meanwhile, looks slippery It’s gleaming & white like a smile w/ flawless teeth
I am taking forever and ever to eat my yogurt. The creamy substance is something to stir and stir with my teaspoon until homogenized and then remove gently with my mouth, using no teeth, only tongue and lips. The pomegranate seeds are a bitter, crunchy counterpoint. Still, we must bear the unpalatable in order toContinue reading “Yogurt”
There had been times There had been times There had been times.
The smell of the workweek is fried fish — on the verge of burning and flaccid green beans — pushed to their limits. The sound is of arguing & stomping — the clinking of dishes the television sparks — a war in Tel Aviv The setting off of lawn sprinklers The smell of moisture onContinue reading “Wednesday Evening”
What Doris was was sandwiches & mustard husband Joe drinking cold Michelob Him with a bottle & belch at the table beat up dungarees and missing teeth Feral cats squatting his gutted & rusted bug and his decrepit mitt in the shed that smelled of cigarettes