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11.13.2002
Run for Your Lives!
Run, run- it's awful! I'm without a floppy disk and am using my blog to save poetry. Yes, poetry I've written. Best to run screaming from the house right now. I'm no longer going to apologize for being an iconsistent blogger. I've been busy writing the past few weeks and while I do hope to eventually post it for y'all, I'm not ready to just yet. But here- have some poetry. It'll probably taste like burning.
In five nights of
Broken-morning taxi rides
I’ve found
Six crackle-drum maraca
Water bottles
Seven denim-bound thighs
Drunkenly heaving themselves
Upon themselves in stupor’d
Tectonic motions
(one pair, my own, fallen half-asleep, I did not fully feel)
When they uncover my body
I hope they find every bunion, mark, freckle and zit
Covered over in harlot-arched red wax marks.
*phew*. All done. Don't have an eyewash fountain nearby? Wash the pain out by reading some poetry by a real poet, my dear professer Richard Loranger, who is entirely unaware just what a bad influence on me he is. (inciting me to write poetry, that is- naughty naughty reader). See him (along with Bob Homan and Christopher Grosso) next Thursday (Nov. 21) at St. Joseph's College Council for the Arts (245 Clinton Ave., Brooklyn, NY) as part of Poetry Unleashed: Bob Holman* Live. It's free and it's at 7pm. More info available at www.sjcny.edu or 718/783.0374
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