8.26.2007

i was looking on my external hard drive for something and came across some poems i wrote in college, so i thought i'd post a series of them for your perusal.

Poem 1: Machine Wash Cold

Detergent smell—little, gritty, large-as-ocean color—

creeps up from behind, smothering me with white cotton and brown corduroy.

To eradicate the smell: box the clothes,

toss them in a river—Mississippi, Ganges, Nile—

and sit on the porch of a Connecticut farm,

drink soda in a green glass,

wait for the box to return, dirty, sodden and smelling sweet.


I can’t make you live in China between straw hats and rice fields,

even cart you off in a box with no return address,

so I’ll picture you, your shoes’ shine, your large hands.

I’ll tear you in pieces, stuff each piece in a blue bottle, cork it,

throw it by the neck into the Columbia River.



Poem 2: Beside a Shallow Grave

Dark, sweet, low it beats,

underneath. Dirt echoes on wood.

Hands grasp stem and thorn

next to hollow chest.

Over gravestones, bright and shinning,

Over tombs’ ancient bones,

Dust falls.

Drown again, and again

Drown. Under countless waves,

Under the path of the moon,

a slow tide washes

out the remains.


Poem 3: Idle Footsteps

To walk is to lack a place.
—Michael DeCerteau

Mixing the change from my coffee
with my bus fare,
I stand under my umbrella
trying to keep leather boots dry.

Yarn attached to ankles of people
streaming out of tall buildings,
turns downtown streets
into wrapped parcels
waiting to be postmarked.

The street is a river, full
of ferryboats, and shoes
are life preservers.
I am a pedestrian; I carry my place
around with me,
a mother and child.

The late 5:03 pulls up.
While boarding, I drop
my city map


1 comment:

Jason Michael Shuttlesworth said...

You should write a novel.

Then send me an autographed copy (1st edition) before you become rich and famous and sail around the world on your private sailboat, eating cheese, drinking wine, and photographing bazaar sea creatures like the Kon-Tiki guys.