Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Happy Tuesday

There might be some places you are thinking
about visiting like Cobble Hill or my kitchen
or the space between the sofa and the wall.
I encourage you to listen as I press these ideas into your palm
written in plain, legible script. The children are out for the summer
wrists are popping out of the dirt and the beaches are making tatters
of linen shirts. I could go there. Is this a slow day or is it
just me walking from the front to the back and sighing?
My methods of accelerating the passage of time until I see
you again have failed so each minute is counted down in actual
seconds with some of them even going back and forth until
the moment passes perfectly. It's excruciating!
Quaintly jittery like a balloon if a ballon could think
in a dog's mouth or a soft pony making a budget
with a shovel stuck in its back.
Won't you please, and I do mean please come into the room
and shake me awake with your liquid hips and light touch?


Anonymous Anonymous said...

"wrists popping out of the dirt"
"and I do mean please."

beautiful poem in its entirety but also its singularity. ACROSS THE BOARD.

12:57 PM  

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