April 2012
69 posts
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Please Rest In Your Peace
You called. You never call,
and the urgency of your words
was interrupted with a:
“Where might I find the Surrealists?”
My clipboard doesn’t make
sense but I look at it anyway,
it keeps my eyes from
wandering where my mind
seems to go, is going,
and before I reply, someone
not too far away, far enough,
shouts
TO THE LEFT TO THE LEFT
TO THE LEFT, LEFT,
LEFT LEFT
LEFT,
loudly numbing my
next few...
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Past Tense in the Present
Bob Dylan asked you to stop
wasting his precious time,
but you begged to differ:
“Is time precious?”
I’ve had toothbrushes
that have outlasted your
love affairs. You kept them quiet,
reduced to the visual murmur
of an abandoned
balloon in a parking lot.
You waltzed behind closed doors,
curtains the shade of expired mustard,
records crackcrackling, the familiar voices
as comforting as his hand on...
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