I thought I would make a short list of what is not a feeling.Birds are not feelings.Birds eating cherries from the tree are not feelings.This is the best entertainment, I say to myself, watching birds eating cherries,and now I have made a feeling. The robin’s beak glistens with the sticky juice.When a cherry comes off…
How deeply I drink up home catalogs day—they shine open my diorama and teach meto lift my tiny arms to hang the dimeas a mirrory thing upon my shoebox wall. Here’s a sunshine page that reads,“A home expands via the wise use of mirrorswherever you wish for a window.”I’ve read it all, I’ve read, I’ve…
By candlelight the house went down.It’s no wonder the rats won’t come sleepin my newly rented corners…though to me a gatheringof low creatures would be a luminous, a concordant, a thing. Be slow to wish extinct the uglyrodent beasts. You can’t know when all that’s theirswill be more than yours, when a haystack of sleephuddled…
I knew better than to light light after light.I knew—I can’t recall to see candles outand could put the house down in burning—.What if someone asked me, then, do you want to receive its ashes? I’d say yes,that’s the right thing…(but deep down I’d say no,no ashes.). To imagine the size of the boxable to…
I. at thirteen for a whole dark seasonI was lethal with my pellet gun murderingsmall things that wandered into yard stalkingthe thin woods between our house & the highway—I picked off any bird squirrel rabbit snakeI could track if I had two surprised seconds to explain the meaning of my hands my instinctswould have been…
Yesterday, jackrabbit belly was not a color. Today I hold a paint strip to the wall, and it’s true: this is the exact shade of a rabbit’s soft fur, of the sepia robe of St. Francis, whose followers swirled like birds, or were birds, St. Francis being one willing to trade like for like. An…
Two women are walkingon the ocean floor I’m the one in front, holding an oxygen maskthen passing it back to my mother We take turns She breathesI breathe She breathes I breathe We can’t talk we just keep walkingand breathing and sometime towards morning I notice she’s gone A bitof seaweed stirs in the shadows…
Throw scissors at it. Fill it with straw and set it on fire, or set it off for the colonies with only some books and dinner- plates and a stuffed bear named Friend Bear for me to lose in New Jersey. Did I say me? Things have been getting less and less hypothetical since I unhitched myself from your bedpost. Everyone I love is too modern to be caught grieving….
every day someone finds what they needin someone else you tear into a bodyand come out with a fistful of the exactfeathers you were looking for wonderingwhy anyone would want to swallowso many perfect feathers everyonelooks uglier naked or at leastI do my pillar of fuzz my damplettuce I hoarded an entire decadeof bliss of brilliant dime-sized rapturesand…
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