Forgetting

When a building breaks open, a weighty air rushes out, settles like soot on the living bodies around it, perhaps small bits left behind of every other spirit that walked entered passed through traversed, bits of each one of us undusted fingerprints left behind, suddenly shaken from the surface.

Downtown silent downward faces. Quick glances away from eye contact, the silent bus ride getting there. When the bustle of the farmer's market at noon gets quiet you can hear the helicopters in the dances one short city mile away. All the cliches rush out -- heavy hert, the brick on the chest. My insides are full of cement limestone seeming to harden and weigh down my steps. I feel my legs move disconnected from my torso in some kind of cast.

No one mentions the people who lived under the bridge. They were not supposed to exist, so their disappearance is just another wish fulfillment self-fulfilling prophecy. You were never here (anyway). I pray too that you never existed in that moment that you (re) appear now Houdini of the under/overpass, uncensused neighbors.

Street preacher shouting "thou shalts" adds to my headache, piercing through several blocks of sound barrier. At least say something consoling I shout to him in a footstep, in a breath(er). At least put your arms around someone, move away some stones, show yourself (to be) a miracle not a menacing voice another layer of soot settling in an aftermath.

To forget even a moment seems a sin.

How long is the right amount of time for forgetting?

Draft of a poem for my mother on her deathbed.

This is a poem that I found on my computer. It was written during the last days of her life, 2 1/2 years ago, while she was unable to communicate with us--at least in the way we were used to communicating with her. It's not finished. It's just a little something I dashed off.



Strange to think of you now

lying between present and past tense

between now and then, not knowing where you are

not alive and not dead, not being able to talk to you

body pumped full of morphine and

unconscious nurses full of

caring and

bad advice telling

my poor father not to talk to you

Don’t be silly telling me

I can’t talk to you I can’t help you

pass through the door I can’t say

goodbye to you and I see grandma

and your grandma and you when you were 30 and me

when I was eight a living photograph now

opening their arms to you I see you standing with them

without me and I see you in so many memories

laughing sardonically and appreciatively

sharing the joke inside.

The only way to laugh.

Untitled draft of poem

I am never away from you.
Coming home brings me no refuge
angry posted notes
on my forehead bleeding backwards into
my brain I wish I had a mirror in my head
for deciphering or my teeth would turn to a paper shredder

I no longer write notes by hand like an artist
instead of typing like a secretary feel the curve of the letters
beneath my wrist fluid and beautiful when you talk to me
I draw jagged lines the rocks I want to jump off
cliff dive into another place into a blue ocean
not a shallow brown river where you split
my head shoot between the ideas William Burroughs Tell
s me to hold still while you
hold me down waiting for bubbles
to stop bubbles are not for children
but for breathing you take away all my bubbles

Vesuvius and its many dead virgins
are now ash left behind drawn on my forehead
to remember like an angry posted note
I do penance for the sins I hope to commit
gleeful at the ones I do not
when I come home there is no respite from you
your words wake me up in the middle of the night and fuck me
while I’m half asleep
was it good
for you?

Assonance/aliteration poem

This was a poem inspired by Charles Bernstein and Bernadette Mayer's Experiments List. The name was inspired by a typo.

Aliterature

Any angels ask about Anna?
She said several sang sonnets
to the trembling, tumultuous tides to
sooth some semblance, some serenity
to them. Trying to talk
without words was wearying. When we
danced, did dainty
pirouettes, people probably panicked.
Were we worried? Weirdly,
no. Nothing noticeable, nothing nullifying
happened here. Happiness heralded hope,
I instantly insisted. If I instigated
more meanderings, moving mountains
by burrowing, borrowing (Burroughing) black boulders,
then time tilts toward
forever, flying fancifully
alongside an angel.

WWW

When we were writing, we went where we wouldn't
wither. Wildly wanting words, we waited
while wandering. Wolves with weird women
waded, weighted, waited. Weavers wove while
wrenches wracked, wrens warbled. Whole world
working without, while whistling whispers.




This poem is based on an internet acronym. This time I chose www. Previously I did a poem called OMG.

Excuse Poem

I forgot where I parked my car.
The police came and towed it
away. I lost my keys.
I lost my license. I
forgot your address.
And phone number.
I got lost on the way there.
I ran out of gas. I
couldn't see in the dark
because my headlights
were broken. I turned
around and went home.

I will call you when I get there.


Based on an exercise on Charles Bernstein and Bernadette Mayer's Experiments List.

Kim Kardashian Dada Wedding Poem

I could only stand to watch the Kardashians for about 20 minutes. This poem is made up of words and phrases that Kim Kardashian uttered during those 20 minutes. This was also inspired by facebook. But don't hold that against the Dada intent here.


Kim Kardashian Dada Wedding Poem

Pretty sexy, makeup so lame. It's a little weird. I have no idea we're sisters. Festivities up your ass. So glad for your picture. I love my last name. My life is so selfish. Do you need me? We have stages, my friends. I get lucky about a week out of the loop. Then I need five hundred hours, 10 minutes, truly. No joke.

Exquisite Corpse from my creative writing class at MCTC

After spreading pencil shavings like ashes
upon the desks like altars,
giant altars of onyx and silver
melted down into an amorphous, mingling, microscopic
amoeba, dancing and twisting this way and that
hoping to find a cause worth fighting for,
one that sticks to your ribs, like
airbag hearty steak dinner over candlelight
christening stars, fallen angels we lay.