Sunday, September 27, 2020

sunday the student


on the verge of dying for poetry
again, the boring exorcism of hiatus 
looking back at the word bank
all shy

B said some poems just
walk away! 
like children

*

J died 7 years ago, today
a dark autumn night in NY
the hill we climbed 
with the news

*

today is a triangle
with an exclamation point inside

J says
we can't ever do what we want to do
anymore, that's the new secret club

today I go, 
what is a 7 years
a bouquet?
some off lights
reflecting the sun

the triangle with 
the exclamation point
extends 
as if 
encrypted

*

last Yom Kippur
I went to services in SF
where I met an old friend 
and her young dad
the early city was
bright gold

later we wrote
what we didn't need
on scraps of paper and
put them in a clear vase of 
tap water

for atonement, 
I brainstorm some pools in the area

*

the blood thing
is really more 
about draining
 
I fainted in the 
process of 
playing cool

they pushed a Kiss 
into my mouth and
squeezed me and
low key reprimanded me

the bad quiz on loop 

I can't see my own eyes!
or bite my own teeth

*
wrong gained weight

the green bird screams

I'm 
at you!
@you and you, etc.

the male nurses
this week

as wrong grows,
the seasons lose their hallmarks
LA ahead on this 
particular mix 
of flatlines

perennial mosquitos
@mylegs
#watchme

riding the ghosts
of rounded edges