Friday, March 30, 2012


...The other day I had a creative burst and wrote five poems, three of them while in the bathtub.
This is one:

Things I Know About The Things I Don’t Know

The way people save broken umbrellas. The way dried-up pens
love trickery. The way photographs retain their gloss years later.
The way black takes
what it wants and can never be extinguished.
The way oppression overeats at buffets.
The way certain words razor-rip the throat.
The way night sneaks up on day, but never the other way around.
The way babies jump at loud bomb sounds.
The way the sun writes what it wants and shadows really don’t.
The way you say his name after parties, in the shower,
while dreaming.
The cuckolded way I watch you apply eyeliner.
The way lovemaking can sound symphonic,
like a deluge of hailstones
or like nothing at all.

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