After the Idea of the Flood Recedes
with borrowings from Rimbaud, “Après le Déluge”
in a turbulent dream,
I wake troubled, confused,
a tabby nosing round the sheets…
the market stalls are dressed in meat,
bavetted, boned, …
with borrowings from Rimbaud, “Après le Déluge”
in a turbulent dream,
I wake troubled, confused,
a tabby nosing round the sheets…
the market stalls are dressed in meat,
bavetted, boned, …
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I am grunting along the 60, returning
from Calvary Mortuary in East LA
where I walked into the wrong
services. My good friend’s mom
suddenly gone and me wandering halls
looking for the moon: Luna, …
because no one else will. His eyes
are white and cracked like the moon,
little crescents. And when I set
him down, he runs, not knowing
where he’s going. …
Last night I read Lorca in the bathtub
Three candles and an incense lit
My cigarette blending with steam and bubbles
Lavender and Epsom sinking to the bottom
The eucalyptus …
My cup of coffee has gone
stale in the late afternoon and it hits
me as the cloudy stuffiness of suburbia creeps
through the kitchen screen door:
assault is …
Part One
1.
I am your moon.
You are my light.
2.
Little moon girl, sitting in the pool
O ball, in and out of the water
O kindness, o gentleness
crow, no raven, sitting …
“What are you reading?” she asked,
from behind an orange mask.
In the past, I would have smiled,
responded cordially about this book,
only this pandemic has changed me.
My intolerance has grown, like
an overdue …
You direct my eyes
to the yellow door of the bookshop.
Help me when I ask. Don’t just pull me …