28 August 2011

andersen robeson bezeljak and blood

i never said it isn’t but     why    are you whispering
i wish you wouldn’t do that      you’re not fooling me
                           ice in the water   cold on the shoulder 
                                    all the pretending is making us older

         just want her to stop talking just stop talking 
                                                             stoptalking

what’s your name    my name is bill
                           dead woman body pretty

                                             a bruise from the windy city
amazing  
who was that       
tip tip tip tip
tiptap   

come back when you’re angry    

                                    when you’re hungry   

                    when the green and gold turn whittier cold

and you  said
‘it’s true’
you said it
you knew

the trial   in paperback

serious 
 like storm clouds
black plastic buttons  filling drain spouts
the motion devotion of eyes fixed on mouths     
a whirlwind rhythm of
time running out


that explosion   when you were six

the long and the short         it made me sick
  
                            those are the facts

and they are satisfactory

all that was asked of me   fresh   from the factory

when open was nothing
                                  we drove through the night
     terribly slow
                             turned  confided
                                   

                                                  what color isn’t natural color 

                                                                sunset 

                                     sudro is back

 waited with her

feigned  attack at


cigarettes     beers
                           bruises on knees

  the muses in ears
                                    made sure you said ‘please’ 

and ‘thank you’

                                                         to stutterers
 afraid of the phone

deeply in love with being alone


No comments:

Post a Comment