Poetry Post #1

I'd like to think that poetry doesn't need an introduction, that it can stand on its own. But poetry is often obscure; it starts live and now and immediate. In media res, the fancy pants say. As if Latin were required. Nothing is required. But everything is still potentially very useful.

Am I a fancy pants, then? Sure. And a hobo, a rich man, a poor man, a quince, a cherry, a dream. Tip: pay close attention to every word. Poetry is like ice hockey: the best moves occur when you least expect them, and the worst moves are sometimes unearthly and grand and silly.

sorrow on burnt toast

as if I had hired the sun
to burn out all the trash in my heart.
as if I had busses, and friends
to carry off my past.

why is the wind so dry today
sucking out my breath,
shoving it back in sharp and liquid,
like I’m a drunk
at a party that’s already over?

I can’t stand here without pieces of you
pecking at my face;
is it a crime to want to breathe?

I look like a clown,
wet brown eyes,
torn lips, my half-open mouth,
my expensive skin singed by starlight.

as if time is kind,
as if love doesn’t curdle,
as if desire can be satisfied.