Gagarin and Me
Down by the
in nothing but socks
you laid your palm
the bald front seat,
clicking the seatbelt like a telegraph
sending a desperate message into space--
we were the cosmonauts there, lonely and proud,
your hair red in the light,
your eyes hollow
Then you cast
me out to tumble with the
bad milk and spent bottles.
You heard the singing of the
black lakes in your ears.
They were calling you to distant
I only died a little bit.
The blood ran thick
and unquiet through me.
But I was already mapping the terrain
of a new planet,
gargantuan and blue,
where even the
of the satellites couldn't reach.
Girl Who Wasn't Goldman
going to charge you with all the bright humanity in me and
how everyone here,
naked under steel
serge and desk lights,
is sacred, bodies holy,
fervid fervid unions are going to raise us up forever,
your lips, turned at sour corners, won't tremble.
lights on your unlikely flesh, the thin
fur on the indent in
your jaw, will burn,
And I will turn, reddening and quiet,
into a morning drowned
in the rot of its promise.
would like to be the sort of girl who doesn't talk,
still and sharp,
Lips calcified by the perfection of an
that gives no quarter;
When she surrenders at last to
Her passions gather in a dark cloud of atoms
and rising in her limbs.
Instead I am a sputtering machine
At times I roar, at times I mutter,
forth always a curled black plume
of ambling, garish thought;
Mornings I swear I won't say a word until lunch
I am a
fountain of words before breakfast;
Broad and yielding, I
snack, I bluster,
I crow, I cringe, I fever to expand.
wince at the brevity of the peerless mind,
I clutch to myself
all that is fierce and disordered;
Jowls trembling, sunk in
I dream of creating a new self from a handful of