Why is it always here that I want to say these things, to take my watch off. Leave spellbound writs tacked into the brick with pushpins. I used to think about Debussy
and about Bruckner.
and Prokofiev.
These are they, those men whose minds used to occupy my own,
in doodles or lampshades. It’s barren now,
drawn internal and angered and hollowed out small/
I receive a call presently, an ex.
An ex what? I ask myself wittily but greet, hello and do you have the wrong number?
He has. the wrong gal. same name though.
Understandable, as I laugh spryly and make up words to call him by. Sputnik, trivet, igneous;
remember teaching him keyboard and my fingers too big.
It’s like I never left, staying. My small organalia pumping me towards the yellow line or worse.
Run-in with a volvo, those damn things,
spreading eagle on the highway.
I’m waiting for red, for her poem to make grace.
Find me, speak me. You can’t miss me,
breasts and all jutting skyward, toward Orion’s lure,
I like to leave the adjectives alone at night. I spin water
into figuratives , children I don’t yet have. They gurgle into big microphones inside
and tell me how to write down:
I am pirated. A copy illegal and given away for cents, the small subway price for those gypsies, all doped up and willing. Or
in the throes of habitation, it is a disease and withdrawal, both. Pangs me down, sharp or fancy or whatever they call it now. in stirrups - some sort of peep show. I’m not about to tell you my favorite letter or even my middle name for that matter.
It’s Elizabeth. Well see here now-
I’ve just said it.
Author notes
Written March 6th, 2006
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1 - 5 of 5
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I like it...It's so you!!
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Oh, I too am totally serious about Coffee in Carlisle (dosen't that sound like a fantastic name for a poem?)...
Love, SHannon -
Thanks, it definitely was a stream of consciousy piece. No, not that ex. Actually my best friend's ex from 20 million years ago. He called my cell phone the night I wrote this thinking he was talking to some other girl friend of his named Katie. It was ironic and ridiculous and made me laugh the way old men do at little boys on their first dates.
Yes, we most definitely need to catch up. This summer in Carlisle for coffee. I'm serious. I need to meet you kid...much to discuss, much to discuss. Anyway, talk to you soon. I'll be glad to hear that "novella" any day.
-K -
mmm, yes, this is the perfect stream-of-conciousness piece... It really evokes your personality, a stark and bold showing of a character that speaks frankly. Lovely.
an ex?
i like that bit, but it made me wonder. -
It's too late and I'm too tired but YUM. This is very different and wonderful and I'm sorry I can't generate more thought for you. I like the format. It's quite readable, like, I don't get stuck in it. It leads you along as if it doesn't really know where it's going, but it knows it won't trip. And then it does (know where it's going) and you're at the end.
Edited on May 29, 2:27 p.m. because 'I out some words.'.
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