Maybe you did.
Archive for August, 2009|Monthly archive page
Juked #5 is all up and online and in your business. I haven’t read it yet, but it must be good, featuring fiction from writers like Liz Prato, Craig Snyder, and Marianne Villanueva, poetry from others like James Belflower, Shawn Fawson, and Sarah Blackman, plus an interview of Claudia Smith by Kelly Spitzer.
These chalk moon lashes
These dusty pomegranate dead
These giant heart clouds
for the other you
good little librarian head
hiding whatever fainted fragmentary things
in ironic Saturday milk.
I think the oats make them healthy.
I hear the oriole’s always-grieving voice,
And the rich summer’s welcome loss I hear
In the sickle’s serpentine hiss
Cutting the corn’s ear tightly pressed to ear.
And the short skirts of the slim reapers
Fly in the wind like holiday pennants,
The clash of joyful cymbals, and creeping
From under dusty lashes, the long glance.
I don’t expect love’s tender flatteries,
In premonition of some dark event,
But come, come and see this paradise
Where together we were blessed and innocent.
Listening to Miniature Tigers today:
I dreamed I fainted, which woke me up. Now I can’t decide if dreaming you’re fainting is ironic or serendipitous. I’m pretty sure the waking up part is ironic.
I feel a child should follow and stick with their first instincts. Mine was to become a librarian. I am a frustrated librarian.
Things that are less like hammers.
Things that are like hammers, only softer.
Windows that are less like windows. Dirty.
Mouths that bleed like hammers make, but singing. Things that are
trip out through the eyes like being forgotten is.
I cover you with a pillowcase in the early laundry morning.