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
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.