(Running) After Catullus (With a Knife)
I will not let you come again, I swear —
Go, whisper to my tender bruised door
Darken it with feathered flatteries
Fill it like ashtrays with your silhouette for a week and more
And see if someone answers — I will not.
Each ink-drenched kiss you stick me with
You’ll see it only makes me brittle, Sweetness,
Not quite the writhing/smiling/drowning you
Expect from your exquisite Rothko reds.
And when you say you picked them out to show the world my eyes, quote,
“How [you] see them”, unquote, I can only think
So what’d you need me for?
I know, I think too thinkingly for you —
Too firm, too forced, too formally aware,
Like lunch left in the pan too long after the timer didn’t ding, and now
As you cut into me I turn
To stale rubber in your stale mouth.
That’s true at least, Sweet:
I’ve known people to chew on me for years, and still leave
Only the scars of their teeth.


Even on mud or grasses,

Strain Again

La Plage Sud

All Change

The Nocturnes

Newton’s Cradle

Another Time

How We Know Each Other

Houdini’s Wife

Trying To Finish A Sonnet At Le Pain Quotidien

Crossing the Pont du Lac Ha! Ha!

So What’s My Super-Objective

Remember Once, When It Was Raining,

The Word Is “Yet”

A Subway Sketch

Wait Up! I’m Hamlet, Too!

It’s Always Something

The Buddha in My Window Box Faces Away

Arranged

Don’t Go
