List Hobbies and Interests Here

This is what they want
all those singles sitting in
front of computer screens in
rooms called living or study

When they compose
their likes and dislikes
it boils down to this:
an evening walk through a forest
then up a mountaintop
with a big brown dog
return to a hearth: candles, good wine, a fire
the sharp taste of cheese imported from Britain
swirls of foam on a real espresso
talk of literature and film
music in the background, something baroque

but what they don’t write
in their profiles, the unforeseen mark
of compatibility in outlook, aesthetic, desire
is that these two women
followed down the mountain by the big brown dog
on their way to cheese, wine, candles, fire, espresso
have each picked up a stone
the one broad and square, a solid base
the other a hand-sized paisley teardrop

the women walk down the mountainside
each holding a white stone
in her left hand
she has picked up along the way
to show the other

In Transit

finding somewhere
to put things, finding something
to say, saying someone’s
name like something
familiar, a taste
a satisfying texture
like squeaky crunch of snow
when all the world is white
and shadow free

another person would
see only clutter
in all this you call
home, all these things
covered in your fingerprints
all this that has nowhere
to go

Place Response Here

Come on
talk to me don’t talk
in teletype canned responses
corresponding in cadence and chronology
to what I said I mean fuck I feel like
a fill in the blank with a logical response on the dotted line you will be graded
on how precisely your response directly reflects the prompt

It was not a prompt I wrote
It was not a proof that needing your logic imposed
your admonitions and instructions your you should you should you should
this that this that means this means that

This is not a conversation
This is not communication
This is two teletype machines feigning intelligence
Almost human enough to enjoy the clack of their own keys
smack the regurgitated flavor of comeuppance of feed
back you think you told me something hear this hear that

so every word I breathed was a backdraft
blocked on its way out of my mouth by your word
that was bigger and better and brighter
because it was yours and you know better than anyone how to cross
the t’s dot the i’s place the full stop on all these words
we throw at one another like flares saying here here here I mean
hear hear hear me speak I am trying to speak
don’t take my words away

Making a living









The Man

The Man Who Hated Women
is on the shelves just out new release wow
last year it was The Man Who Loved Yngve
everyone raved about just had to read
after the film came out
and before that the revival of The Man Who
Mistook His Wife for a Hat onstage all the rage

Maybe it’s the same man
Maybe there is just one man
mistook his wife for a hat so now
he hates women and loves Yngve who
by the way is a man too
so no, there isn’t one man there’s two:
and the guy everyone writes about

How Snow

how snow softens
the blow
of silence

how silent bursts
of sounded rage
in unvoiced thoughts
like the wind carried
a few brown leaves
up from autumnal graves last week
and laid them on the thawing ground
saying, See, Spring again will come
there will be green warm ground
believe me

and I believed
but now the same wind
treacherously indifferent
lays the snow heavy wet shroud
over the muffled ground
the forgotten leaves
the voices
that dared to speak

Yes, but

yes but you said No
I said
Yes can mean no
I agree
or disagree
English has no word
for the French word si
the Scandinavian jo
the negation of a negative
the affirmation of what
you didn’t mean or
rather what you did mean
was wrong

count the words
tally the wrongs
go on
lay them in store
let them be
your wealth
your layby
for hard times
to come

days of roses
and pansies