from Zyxt
Fare il dire et farea
che il mezzo delle Mare
— Mario Savio
For Lyn & Leslie
To confuse dream with sleep, this image (the full moon literally crumbling in the sky) with the real (first concussion knocks us down) is to wake sweating, in full terror
Albany (Albanians)
Large leafed pattern on otherwise black tie hints at paisley
Desire to take Gwyneth Paltrow home and feed her one, two, many meals
The steady dimpling of the water’s surface: swimming pool in the rain (moment at which you recognize you no longer fear death) – red-headed kindergarten teachers in that first full blush of intense (and intensely personal) bipolar disorder
Simply the concept: imitation Leroy Neiman – beneath the off-white cottage cheese stucco ceiling, cheap LA hotel, rain out the unopening window
Looks at his pager before leaving the meeting so that others don’t identify the departure as a bio break
Later, sentences to sort into order
Places one hand on his cheek as he listens – I absent-mindedly count the pocked acoustic tiles of the ceiling (those on the margin invariably trimmed – flaw or feature) – ear always means what it hears
Painting o’erwhelmed by its frame – spring arrives in waves, this week’s first yellow inconceivable in the colorless grey forest
Uncross my legs in the too-tight seat of a crowded plane – sculptor with the bandaged hand
Meals eaten standing by the sink in the kitchen
Lacking floss, he finds a long thread extending from his shirt cuff
Institutional tv monitor padlocked to high metal stand (asset code stenciled onto its side) – roots rock as subgenre
An egg cream made with Sprite (you don’t realize how loud all this talking is until you can’t hear Stevie Wonder from the juke box
A series of large round rattling seeds beaded together by a rough yellow thread placed into the paper tray before the pulp is added to the solution, thus engrained into the new sheet as it dries
“Humanity sneezed on me”
Official country wall map in library basement, reds and greens deep against the off-white field
Five components had eigenvalues greater than one
“Mom, can I get up now?”
Child’s voice clear in the still air
The wives of bass players all go mad
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To view the formatting of this poem correctly, stop by MiPOesias Magazine 2005
Filed under: Flashback, MIPOesias
