Tuesday, November 18, 2014

phoenix (an inverted zombie life)

phoenix (an inverted zombie life)

“Because,” said the hunger artist…“because I couldn’t find a food which tasted good to me.”

“I was afraid, I'd eat your brains”
“Conversation 16,” The National


i am not interested in arizona
but another state altogether

resurrection

i am hopeful that the part of me
that died can rise from the ashes

resurrection

it is lonely living while dead inside
no urge to eat—an inverted zombie life

resurrection

this state has no decayed flesh or moaning
although the living somehow remain distant

resurrection

to rise then in the arms of another entirely
and to resist feasting on her skinny throat

resurrection

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

chalk

chalk


it was written in chalk on the sidewalk, i suppose,
not chiseled in granite as i’d always believed

winds and rain erase i love you’s in colored dust
while gravestones weather generation after generation

Saturday, November 8, 2014

The Disciplines (all those terminal degrees)

The Disciplines (all those terminal degrees)


We are from different times
and different places,

but intersections and magnetism
are beautiful narcotics.

I am now forced to be an archeologist
of my own dreams

where you come again and again
offering indifference.

This is a different kind of discipline, then,
because it is not my field,

and even in my rare dreamweaving,
I am a rank amateur.

Sleeping, I must not shout out your name
in the middle of the night;

I must not fling back warmed covers,
leaping up to run again to you.

But it is there I am disciplined, a Grand Master,
a Jedi, a ninja in all black,

having perfecting the nuanced art of lies
and deception—of not being me.

The disciplines lead us to the inevitable, I suppose,
of all those terminal degrees.