sweet peas in the garden, all in full bloom
and i thought i heard the traces of an old song murmuring in the room
like a half-remembered conversation, i let it slip away
and then i could not rememeber
i honestly could not remember
-- The Mountain Goats, "Nine Black Poppies"
Marvin Gaye in a red and white Adidas tracksuit
standing in a chapel in Ostend, Belgium, singing the Lord's Prayer.
A Katrina collage of fish-heads, a sofa with split upholstery,
a bare-chested man with spindly outstretched arms.
Melville's Ishmael amidst the circling sharks with padlocked mouths,
eyeing the sheathed beaks of savage sea-hawks.
Young Werther: Don't children reach out for everything that catches their attention?
A glass scabbard of Armenian liqueur
and onions from my garden.
Eyedrops for my dry eyes, for glaucoma.
The fields behind the house finally mowed,
the brown grass scattered and spun but not yet baled.
The Orioles on a winning streak,
a grand slam last night by Nick Markakis.
Kaki King singing John Darnielle's Black Pear Tree:
I saw the future in a dream last night.
There’s nothing in it.
Helen and Bruce in their new house
in Greenwich, without electricity.
James Brown, the mighty pug, dragging out from Molly's room
the corpses of baby mice, one by one by one.
I tilt my head, nudge the spines of books on the coffee table
to try to make out their titles.
I can see better now, but my mind's not right.
Molly has arrived at her hotel in Soho;
we'll be there by tomorrow night.
I am full of others' words, not mine:
Of man's first disobedience,
And beggars on the railway tracks wailing at us for alms.
We cannibals must help these Christians.
What kind of beings are they then,
who finally must be scared away by poison?
My sandal came undone. I paused for breath because
air hurt my lungs.
Etymology. Extracts. Loomings.
Someday I am going to walk out of here free.