One of my poems is in the July issue of [PANK] Magazine! Please check it out!
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Baby baby baby, sings the living-room catwalk
and all the sassy goings-on with scarves and belts
and robustaches. I am consumed (from my squatting
DJ position) with more bass in the music, my fingers
frantically pursuing the beat more traveled as friends
gyrate in liquid alcoholic light. Life requires interludes,
and this party but a small crack of light in the dam of joy,
like waking rested or my head in your lap, stroked
by idle hands. The next day I draw into myself and hope
for a better outcome, a world built of the sonic baroque
of birds screaming within the poplar grove. The more
I think of love and loving, the smaller my chances are.
I gather a small pocket of stones and try to parse my luck.
Witch doctor magic, muti, calculus—the units all the same:
motion, observance, the heart at its work of imagining.
I should know better than to expect an answer, but the trying,
like tarot, yields the best results. Finger cut, I draw blood
boundaries, lay stones beneath the treeshade, hold my breath.