July 2011
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John Lennon (excerpt)
The music was already turning sad, those fresh-faced voices singing in a round the lie that time could set its needle back and play from the beginning. Had you lived to eighty, as you’d wished, who knows?—you might have broken from the circle of that past more ours than yours. Never even sure which was the truest color for your hair (it...
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“In the early morning Joe wakes me; his hands at any rate are intelligent, they...”
– Margaret Atwood | Surfacing
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You Have What I Look For
You have what I look for, what I long for, what I love, you have it. The fist of my heart is beating, calling. I thank the stories for you, I thank your mother and father and death who has not seen you. I thank the air for you. You are elegant as wheat, delicate as the outline of your body. I have never loved a slender woman but you have made my hands fall in love, you moored my desire, you caught...
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“Even the village had too many people for him, he needed an island, a place where...”
– Margaret Atwood | Surfacing
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The Humbled Heart
Go your seeking, soul. Mine the proven path of time’s foretelling. Yours accordance with some mysteried whole. I am but your passion-haunted dwelling. Bring what news you can, Stranger, loved of body’s humbled heart. Say one whispered word to mortal man From that peace whereof he claims you part. Hither-hence, my guest, Blood and bone befriend, where you abide Till withdrawn to share...
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“I have to be more careful about my memories, I have to be sure they’re my...”
– Margaret Atwood | Surfacing
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Sublimation Point
The answer is entropy—how smell works— little bits of everything—always spinning off from where they were—flying off at random into the world—which is to say into air. There are other ways of solid to gas— they’re substance specific, like iodine, or dry ice—how I felt when I saw you— straight to a new state without passing through expected ones—as though enough of me left at the moment you...
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“Isolation was to him desirable. He didn’t dislike people, he merely found...”
– Margaret Atwood | Surfacing
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There Is Another Way
There is another way to enter an apple: a worm’s way. The small, round door closes behind her. The world and all its necessities ripen around her like a room. In the sweet marrow of a bone, the maggot does not remember the wingspread of the mother, the green shine of her body, nor even the last breath of the dying deer. I, too, have forgotten how I came here, breathing this sweet wind, drinking...
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“I recall the feeling, puzzled, baffled, when I found out some words were dirty...”
– Margaret Atwood | Surfacing
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Oh God
spilling water from my back, you call and i come. that exhausted walk to reach you breathless and no i didn’t run to see you, i’ve been smoking too much, same thing. another awkward hug in the car as my face smashes your cheek that i can feel it leaving now is the saddest, a beautiful eruption you could have picked it off the tree and chowed but you weren’t hungry. feeling it dying away all...
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