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She said in all my past lives
I’ve always been a woman
and I’m stuck in this relationship
and he’s not coming back
so I should just move on
and get over it
I was a little sad
but yeah
I’m gonna go back to her
one more time
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“Behold!” cried the Lord, on a late September morning,
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I think I know you
and say so
You’re like a
woman I saw once in pajamas
holding a child
running in the rain
The absorption of dreams
in your arms
Maybe because of a man named Donald
who slept on his hair in 1972
and things have ne
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(originally appeared in Lit Up)http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com/poetry/rusty-barnes/Remind me never to call youagain after you get home late,for the familiar fear of the deadbolt noise,the shifty creak of your linoleum floor,the way you throw your jacket overthe sofa and…
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—with spinster goddesses in the middle of things / circling looms.
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She had a strange name which I am ashamed/
To have forgotten, seven times, maybe nine,/
Her lips transgressors, wet with sourapple ...
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In the closet where her leather coat hung/
Are cedar things, some strange potpourri ...
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2100
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Don’t try playing with your shadow
It can lead to serious consequences
It will constantly follow you if you do
It will always return like a bummed-out dog
Playing with your own shadow too much
could lead to insanity
You should hide
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He wanted, what
would have been
holding a child without any doubts.
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We set traps for bear rats.
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They live a simple life..two solitudes by lamplight.
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2100
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Wild oats. Universal life. Girl with the pearl earring.
On the train to Babylon, a dog asking questions,
not just another dog on an endless search for good.
Putting unhappiness aside. Dropping our pretenses.
That is why we wanted to live the
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Of flowers there Are none In June No sun Upon my cheek The gentle breeze Stirs me not The smiles They cloud my vision Birds they Sing their songs But I hear Them not When tears Rain down My heaven.
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In the corner of my room stand—like color guards— parallel stacks of batteries, each with a metal spoon, waiting patiently for me to heat up in the darkness, the quiet darkness, and pay homage to my…
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behind the hua pala you parted her skinny legs like reeds everything the good friction of pebbles over sand a quivering bow on the synthetic strings of a stratus violin
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