Skip to main content

Poem


Baptized in A Public Pool With The Entire Congregation Standing on Deck

Jesus Christ saturates
my trunks

at age 8, while the body
promises

to wrap me up, love me hard
& wring

him out of me—He—color  
of chlorine,

congeals on my legs. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Improv 1, Week 9

Script Folio 43 Split pomegranate, common rhinoceros beetle, Scarlet Turks='s cap lily folding back it's red lips while anthers circle the pistil's one hand: above them six lines are written in chancery script with lettere tagliate , letters cut like the long lines of pasta our parents cut on our plate, the work of two people who never met. The two halves of each letter--below and above-- are severed or sewn together by inked chain links like those that knot a fence or a stitch that unravels the whole length of a sentence if a stray thread is pulled--chain letter, chain gang, chain mail, chain saw-- or those paper links that wrap themselves around the Xmas tree: eentsy weentsy spider sidling up to each letter, each word, casting and binding in silk as if to ravel and unravel once felt the same. ---------------------------- Food Foods were eaten like the grossness our parents turned into freedom tickets away from the kitchen table, the alteration of rules we didn’t know exis...
Post a Comment
Read more

Improv 1, Week 8

Myth I was asleep while you were dying. It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow I make between my slumber and my waking, the Erebus I keep you in, still trying not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow, but in dreams you live. So I try taking you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning, my eyes open, I find you do not follow. Again and again, this constant forsaking. * Again and again, this constant forsaking: My eyes open, I find you do not follow. You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning. But in dreams you live. So I try taking, Not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow. The Erebus I keep you in—still , trying— I make between my slumber and my waking. It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow. I was asleep while you were dying. ---------------------- Partly Cloudy I was learning, while you were barely breathing, that twelve times eight is somewhere below one hundred: those multiplication tables delay my learning of your death. They are mind fog, never all...
Post a Comment
Read more

Junkyard Quotes 36-40, Week 8

"Sugar Daddy Potential" - My friend Heather used this phrase while talking about a guy she met at a required conference for work. He was 47, single, and unmarried, so his "sugar daddy potential" was kinda high. In a joking sense of course. Kinda. But no, really. ------------------ "If they know you can do it, they'll ask you to do it." -This also came up during my conversation with Heather. We were talking about how managers and bosses will ask you to do a new task constantly the minute they find out you can do it. When I worked at books-a-million, anyone that made it through cafe training found themselves stuck over there 3 to 4 times a week. ------------------ "'Pissed off' isn't a bad word; I do it every day." -A student of mine said this on Tuesday when trying to defend his language and not get in trouble. Since he pisses every day, he doesn't think "pissed off" should count as bad language. ------------------ ...
Post a Comment
Read more