There are things I want to show you, like the empty pause that encircles desire. Or how Klimt knew that a woman bends her neck that far for a kiss only if she really wants it. I want to show you how quiet it gets when you’re in the company of someone who no longer loves you.
Inside its surround
folded in, I’m a fold
of it, I’ve never left atmospheric
borders I engorge to the point of
Another bloody body
another child dying while
doing the unthinkable
eating food, going home,
eyes meeting impatient suspicion.
I would cut off my own thumb for the perfect thimbleful
of wood-ear mushroom and bamboo shoot soup.
My paychecks all go to heirloom parsnips and pickled lamb tongues.
I dream of singed pigs’ feet, pearly cartilage and crisp skin.
If I could go back to my birthplace, Lanciano,
wander all day up and down the corso,
stop by the cathedral built on the ruins
of a Roman prison and pray,
if I could
The Tundra at last
Resound my heart
Your music, the river
Your light, the stars
Your carpet, the lichen’s tender green
We Twitter, Tinder, Tumblr through eternity. Loquacious text messages flit from fingertips, waves of data spill through our skulls. Every cm2 of oxygen overflowing with bank PINs, girls in yoga pants, the frequencies of whale cries. Digital clouds brim with selfies and rain videos on how to cook coconut shrimp. Sepia filtered photographs prowl for […]
Arsenault’s Tobacco Magazines Novelties is closing: everyone has locked arms and is dancing. The Arsenaults have given away flags, trinkets, greeting cards from the ’40s. Everyone dances so that the floor shakes like the floor of a boat while musicians huddle in a corner, hardly noticing the audience, and young men shouldering film cameras as […]
Like noise of the pouring river the mind lets go, throws spray like water’s pulse and hurl. What’s true for the waterfall is true for the water before its fall, at the brink recalls and recoils, spins and rolls forward into that fall. It never runs out, never loses the weight of its being, the […]
Forty-eight and finally, I learn how to start living if that’s what it’s called. I mean, spring clean, bras cup-side up in the drawer, Japanese fantail dress detail, only some excess, and five-inch Louis Vuitton ‘Kimono’ heels. Coffee at an East Village bodega on Christmas day. December sun on walk-ups While we sat in that […]