I am trying to form a syllogism
but I can't turn the spigot on.
It begins with enormous loss
that crams you to the ground.
It takes months to dare to think
that loss is a kind of a gift
But what is that gift exactly --
is it authority on the subject of pain?
What good is it to be an expert
on knowledge no one with 1/2 brain would want?
What sort of gift is tears and who
would stand in line to taste them?
Ophelia -- 2011
I feel you,
and I feel you feel me too
I want to ask how
one floats laded down
with so much information?
that doesn't kill us
makes us sadder
Like a mermaid
tangled in a net
you have given up
gasping for good.
Love Which Is Lousy
Live in the forest where moisturegleams from every limb
our plaintive harvest fills the air.
I know we aren't friendsand yet we are close.
I mark and deposit,
I whisper to the dendritesmy affection for your flesh
No one knows you
the way like I do.
I am desperate for yourscratch, see me how
I hover in your fur.
Turk Oiseau has been previously published in Nightsbridge. He is Macedonian. He is a CPA by day but loves the Imagistes at night, especially Charlie Parker, another kind of bird, and his favorite American, H.D.
Post a Comment