Monday, August 15, 2016


like ray carver's daughter (reprise)

"you're grown-up, now, and lovely.
you're a beautiful drunk, daughter.
but you're a drunk."
-- raymond carver

when the world falls apart,
you settle like dirt
to the earth of your life.
what happens, dad,
when the world falls apart?

i drink like a fish, daddy,
and i know you were not
like yeats, you never wished
me plain. my eyes burn greenand dark, and nightly, i
pour myself into poisoned
waters, embracing snakes
wrapped round my waist
like a dress of sinuous death.
i don't want to wreck

this liver so tenderly built,
don't want to break
these bones cast
in the milk of love,
don't want to wring dry

the red river of blood
that has become my heart.
but i have, again, fallen apart.
my insides tear paper over and over
like a quiet rush of trees.

Saturday, December 05, 2015

Hello, When We Were Young. Adele.

{Adele | Hello}

"When we were young, and free...We'd forgotten how
it feels to have the world fall at our feet."


{Adele | When We Were Young}

"Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time/
That we might be just exactly as we were before
 we realized/We were so scared of getting old it made us restless."

"I'm so mad I'm getting old
It makes me reckless."

Friday, April 10, 2015

The Man, Book Her Prize (Prelude)

The Cuffs Still Hold

The cuffs still hold.
Found a blister on my small
Wrist this morning,

So sentimental and predictable,
But unless you've felt the
Hard metal shackles so tight
Even the chain can't be seen;

Unless you've felt that honestly,
Your delicate wrist bones might
Break if the steel shining holds
Your body inert a minute more.

So no joke. You'd rather your
bones and hands broke, useless,
never mind the pain, because

Oh the shackles fall fast to the ground,
Your shoulders let your arms go slack,
Yes, this metaphor is atrocious, but
It wouldn't be, whether honest or not,
If you've felt the time do you in,
The cuffs a killing, cunning thing.

No. This wouldn't be a sophomore
Metaphor. For only the imprisoned,
literally mostly, know how that heart
Soars and whimpers, when, bones
Broken and shackles fallen--oh
Them feets don't fail me now--prefer
Them broken, useless hands, and them
Broken, useless wrists, prefer what
Once upon a time might have been
An unfathomable, please-kill-me torture,
And feel nothing but the unsteady
forward on weak wobbling calf legs.

the stonewall turns trees
And you ask one more time if you can leave,
So what's a meadow for? The unsteady calf
Released. Free. Only a prisoner knows how the
uncertain heart dives deep and flies high,
when your bird-like bones are broken everyone
and you run, free. Only the jailed really
Know what it's like to be free.


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