Friday, July 22, 2011

some old poesy

  • I greet your ghost
    each day

    To think of you
    as a ghost
    is to disregard the reality
    that you are alive

    You will outlive me
    I shiver
    in anticipation
    of your death

    I smile at your ghost
    a hand in the air
    to dissipate
    YO U
    Destroy the moment
    Say "moment"
    Say "immobile"
    Say "In movement I am torment"
    a fucking word that guarantees
    A leaving

    Each day
    a leaving
    a greeting
    a wave

    Cities far away
    Grind at the thought of you
  • Kids Stay Free!
    in the projects
    this girl
    head stuck out the window
    on the first
    nice new day of spring
    looks around like --
    "this shit ain't my fault
    but maybe I can fix it"
    she redeems this ugliness
    with pure presence

    three days ago
    she had a wicked cold
    nose dripping like the leaky faucet
    in the bathroom
    drop drop drop
    but you can't take a wrench to your neck
    and twist --------

    so she was resigned to it
    the sniffling and gurgling and aching chain
    that was this winter
    the endless stream of barely edible Chinese food
    her mother brought home from work nearly
    every goddamn day
    but her mother was a lousy cook
    and they both knew it
    so she didn't complain much

    she had forgotten what people
    looked like underneath the layers
    of clothes they wore
    she remembered thinking that people were lying
    that they didn't really have bodies
    that they didn't even exist
    she would think this about herself, but then
    concluded that she must be real
    because who has ever had thoughts like these before?

    she remembers her mother
    drunk in the living room
    rifling through boxes of memories
    telling her through a curtain of tears
    and snot ---
    "Don't ever trust a man, baby. They'll fuck you
    over sooner than later. I'm sick of being fucked over.
    Do you hear me, baby? I'm sick of being fucked over!"

    she just stood there and watched her mother cry

    even then she knew
    her mother asked for it
    secretly yearned for it
    sought it out like a divining rod

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