Thursday, June 23, 2011

Drawing Breath

graphite on paper
ink on vellum
marginalia, marginalia, the
marginalia of my life
(god – I’m such a narcissist)

the coffee ring on a napkin
the black wire against the white wall
snow and everything dark against it
the calligraphic mark

the shadow cast
the flickering celluloid
(Humphrey Bogart in silver
tones – where are you that
we need you now?)

the typewriter – the typewriter
how could they abandon the typewriter?

smoke and beautiful faces
braced against the cold…


---


the tongue
thick and straining
against
you
them
me
and my charred bones
ground to dust and ivory black

still hoping to find
what I lost at 33



---


with carbon stained lips
I came and found you there
or rather
everything that had been you

touching your face

and in that touch
a drawing made of my desire
on white cotton sheets

1 comment:

  1. This is a very nice lament as laments go. Yes, it's a very good name. Compact. Expansive. Like yes.

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