Saturday, August 30, 2008

I'm supposed to submit poetry today. It's Saturday and that's the rule. I don't want to, too disspirited. Besides, I'm going to the train station at noon and that's all I'm going to say about that.

I submitted to Paris Review and they sent their rejection on an itty bitty piece of paper. Sheesh, they can't afford a whole piece or what, lots of scrap paper to get rid of? At least Handsome Journal sent a whole piece handwritten with beautiful handwriting. I put it up over my computer with Kelly's poem. Kelly's poem is called Boxtalk and I missed the workshop she brought it to. She sent it to me and so I encountered it straight on, noone reading it to me. I wish I could publish it here. It is so brilliant and shivery and brutal. I still use it for inspiration.


If we are to build the future from fireflies
Start with mortality
Or morality, you choose one or the other
Not both, my heart

Find yourself on this compass
You are here, I am there
We meet in the middle, which
Houses a few cedars, an occasional cattail

An ocean in between, a tunnel through the ground
Sailing ships and candlesticks
Darkness random flavors
Cinnamon portabella lavender

Here, give me your hand
Or the body part you wish to relinquish
I have need of a familiar
For this turbulence

Shake a vessel barrels roll into the sea
Fish tangled and gutted
A mountain crashed down on us
Sharks, aluminum foil, cherry pits

What I mean to talk about is smothered
Pressed against your breastbone
With every breath you collapse into a levy
While I float tethered to the mast

Shipwreck, home to bottom feeders
Lions , butterfly bushes
All camphorated handkerchiefs
Your grandmother’s ghost perfumes the sheets


Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah breaks my heart. Every time.


Radish King said...

It's not a rule, it's a challenge.

Maggie May said...

yes me too, every time.