Monday, June 21, 2010


Will you lift that part of you up
so I can see when you start to drop
all around us things stop
for an instant I am free of you
like a belt no longer wrapped
around your waist is free around my neck
in the twilight you consume things
that make the night disappear
under a dial like a rotary phone
with a cord and everything
you've seen me in those clothes
you've thought about me in a darkened theater
triangles have the fame of altitude
so please feel good or better
away from your drugstore cotton
and your secret vial just please feel free
when I lift the space around you until
it covers the part where people walking
to work look just like the sleepy animals they are
think of a hand reaching
out for air forming a little cup
of pure oxygen I can't even have that
to walk on the same street with your face
in my mind out like a light.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love this poem. it aches, in a good way.

5:53 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey -- that's a very rare Joe Brainard postcard!

9:34 PM  

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