abcprincess (abcprincess) wrote,
abcprincess
abcprincess

Thought I'd post these. Was reading this shit after years of writing it. Maybe to have it out there will make it seem worse so I can then burn. start it over?


David Lehman

The resin left from folding
and folding might be smoking.
I think I see stacks of it in the distance.
Wasn’t it yesterday I picked us up
some oranges--the pulp left little
bits of sticking around your lips?
I thought then, as I do now, there
are little wars everywhere. Could be
hawk or helicopter flying some white
flag but we won’t notice. We are
shadows to such volume. You might
say we’ve eased into the weeds, David Lehman,
you and I. Then again, you might not.


If You Squint, It Flattens

I wade out until inner thighs are raw.
We thought we worked this equation out,
offered variables of body like bread to birds,
but water’ s-x-sum kept us
from reaching the island of biscuit.
We could make a boat, thin as tissue,
and paddle with our angled fingers,
as if we were ready to be shoveled over
or fractioned by salt. (I didn’ t say knives.
I didn’t say this story would be particular butchery.)
Here, on mainland, the factor between us
is crooked, is a length divided by distance, squared,
add a blanket, and span two of my ass.
We won’t make it
off this shore--it’s this ocean,
(a fractal expansion of ocean) and if you squint
it flattens into a blanket of porn.

Honey, you have pulled us from meshed nets
to stained bathing suits and back to this matter.
And it is math, where land is a lacing
of nerves; it’s the exponential force
of whirlpooling into you that confounds--length
of your legs multiplied in mine. I square you.
I divide me. You slink, slip twice on shore.
I intersect sun and salt water.
This porn blanket, the way it refracts, I do before you.


Outline
I. I would’ ve enjoyed walking from hotel to restaurant had it not been for breath
II. Two miles along backside streets and things are foggy with it
A. It’ s not enough to say “winter” when I can smell onions and pinetree on
the mouth of a stranger
III. Landscapes bore me
A. This particular one resembles the profile of my high school counselor
1. I am not
a. resourceful
b. proficient
c. planned or stimulated
2. because in my own version of heaven I am blond
a. thinner and contagious
IV. No one really dies in stories in these landscapes
A. or between the hours of 5 and 6 a.m.
B. If I could come back from the dead I would
V. Now near the end of the middle stretch of the road
VI. It turns out I am walking in the wrong direction to La Cazuela
A. The smell of tacos drifts from the other side of town
B. I want to sit at a table
1. drink sangria
2. re-read my horoscope in the newspaper
a. the one from this morning
b. that says I should not lean
c. but it’ s a good day to lie
i. flat on my back

Tricycle

Today in the winter air while I tried
not to want a cigarette, it was my love for you
that set me blazing. And isn’t it funny?
how together we seem red
and with three wheels, one there
for its fascination of the other and the back one
like an exposed root or tail, bumper
suddenly tied to with empty cans.
When will we begin to gather how indifferent
this difference of age? Let wildfires take it, finally,
bring your slurpie if you’ re afraid to come alone.
Because this is going to be great, this is--
we're biking towards it like we're going up a hill.
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 5 comments