Day: May 9, 2008

9 may 8

poetry

sharing my mom’s car

with

lugged voices

            (too many)

and

simple plans

            (waist-high)

i’d gaze through the fences:

backyards throw crumbs between each post

plus, we’ll save a ton on gas

poetry

i’m on the line–
crouched waiting for
that pistol to
fire i’m living in
those breaths before
the explosion of
gunpowder and
tendons–

i feel the
nauseous anticipation
hating now this space–
waiting now for life–
holding now our worlds–
until the suture heals
and we are one–
not even a scar to
show we were once
otherwise–