Poems
the new york times
how i walked into a bear park and a bear was there.
or maybe it was just you, fish head as you turned
new flatscreen but you faced the same
square with curved edges dust licked
grease slicked remembering how all day
to accomplish a shower if you did
and how i loved that level. with bottles
under our feet. take me down to what we are
but there is more and not your more my more.
you’ve cleaned that room you said, taken out
the corpses, tipped the garbage man
todo bien, i found it unlikely
how i said you will show me your teeth
one at the side lone stalactite
and did not ask about your hands your feet
the cuts on your nose or fresh spider veins
you talked about television and i
remembered shouts over shoot ‘em ups
and you in your shakes how i wanted
to care for you, and still would like to now
but if it’s true i could have it’s true
i didn’t; i am more the type there is
a workaround here, and it’s a cat story
you are telling to that old cockatoo sitting next
dying from emphysema. you threw it over the rail?
cats have nine lives don’t you know although
true, scratching your chin, it’s a long way down
as you i think are about to say remember
the table the chair and the rest, and thought
you saw my sneakers, last thing
in case you forget, calico
i wish i could say more things. an opportunity
is something i see once it has passed
like trumpet vines and a rusted don quixote.
talk about dying in three to four not five to ten
but that was two years ago you say, you
are right on target. i felt very much like back
then drink in hand and edge of stool
perched and primed for you to tell stories
i was always shocked when it turned
and now the things we cannot say.
that chair, one time i took it, thought
when you woke, stumbled in
to pull up a different chair. this
was me hitting back; i was so thoroughly
beaten. once you watched me almost die
in your own way but neither of us
is going to apologize for anything
instead you offer the new york times
they call it the paper of record you know
i took it because i wanted to see you
in full gather swathe and swipe
how a catalogue gets caught up
a flyer and whatever; rumple and stuff
in candy striped bag we who cannot
handle a thing without breaking it i mean we
who cannot handle a thing without breaking it.
* previously published in Curbside Splendor, April 2014.
During the wave’s lifetime
he says, and I think
how many lives
have I watched, just then
end, as he secures
surfboard and roof rack
talk of point breaks and
large fetch, and
during the wave’s lifetime
he says, and how it goes
did it collect nicknacks
photo albums and pets
a shore break, he tells me
and how that one goes
life curtailed
I call it curtains
the humph and the falling
coconut
skin the wind
flesh the swell and fall
pit the foam
white blood
marrow, bone.
* previously published in elimae, 2010.
window washer
in compostela and you know we also
talked about the future. we say
in the square right there we say it.
next to conquistador brick, tezontle
and side of the road while i climbed over
fences or crouched in ditches
what you were organizing was
apartments and j calling you drunk
on the street and s asking you to move
her stuff and x wanting to know this
or that; you had all these strays look
exhibit a and y. i come across photos
i’ve forgotten like our unmade bed
with the striped blanket from the newspaper
pictures, i mean i look for them also
i need them to remind me that once you were
flesh and how have i forgotten that
bucerías morning, the yellow house, bars
on windows and doors open, all night
i said you cannot do that here really
(this isn’t the marina anymore)
you glared it’s no good! these were our
disagreements when we were and weren’t
talking about doors anymore; stubborn
intractable obstinately you you wouldn’t
do what i wanted you to at all! floored
with eels and stars and your truck’s
green gradient perched like dissatisfied
with something like waiting to pounce on
something better like cobblestone
yard with landlord’s boat; i need
a picture to remind me we said things
to each other that for a short time were
meant or meant something. first
thing i thought who is this guy
who wears his pain on his sleeve
like that, who wears his pain
neck deep like that you know and
you would march in a direction
because you said whereas i am more
picking through possibilities and tossing
last minute rubble, irresponsible
you called it but it’s not schedules
but selective memories i hang onto
even more since the burden of what
you held onto the strain on your face
your bones, do you know sometimes
i simply let go. the latest obsession
drama bit of fun or sorrow. one time
we kissed and when we looked up
the light had turned green and the other
cars gone. i remember it but not
how it was; the window washer saw