Not about the Moon
for Edna St. Vincent Millay
Paris, or New York?
Summers at Vassar
That one gorgeous, dog-eared,
dogwood Summer.
Our flushed cheekbones
brushing up against those pink
peonies, and breathy groans
For both of you, everything would grow.
first you Thelma, then Edmund,
while I was writing about the moon,
you both at your leisure begged,
asked, would the truth come very soon,
Not your place, lover, not your place.
I, angered, with an upturned brow,
stormed off to weekend trips in the Village
“Don't tell me what to write about!”
I'm very good at saying no,
I told everyone to call me Vincent
everyone said no, to me,
and no one ever listened.
Confessions, Confessions, Confessions,
I just do not have the time.
There is not enough paper,
and there is not enough rhyme.
Tickle your toes. . .
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RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
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lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
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hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
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sex object. not afraid of the words. I've used many objects for the sake of sex. in fact my body has been pretty disposable- I don't...
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu... -
as I left the waterfront and I climbed up the sandy stair as always his brothers were first; to greet me. I've had past dealings with th...
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nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
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