Saturday, May 18, 2013

Come On

The cherry tree blossoms are already gone.  Lilacs, though, are everywhere and I'm trying to inhale as much of their scent as is possible.  Baltimore Orioles are back at the path and the grass is still sprinkled with white and purple violets. 

I will be reading in New Hampshire this Thursday at 8:00 at the Crackskull's Coffee and Bookstore.  Come on out and here me read some of my poems.  Bring a friend. 

Also, you should swing by Dancing Girl Press and pick up Kristin LaTour's chapbook Agoraphobia here.  I'm sure you could find a few others to round out the 5 for 25 mix-tape offer Kristy Bowen has going on there.

New word for me today:  capacitance.     Also? This title is awesome in its double negativity-ness. 



I Cannot Say That When I Saw You You Did Not Look Like a Lover

 
Chloë Joan López     
  
I.
But I fear our
palms, held
distant, hold more than
palms pressed
close. Desire is capacitance. Usually. In my case


it is needlework and pain—that
is capacitance—with a glowing
pinpoint that threatens
to defect, desire mere field
lines gathered alongside.


Wafers of distrust wedged between. 

II.
Between
the planetarium and its dome, I have
finally learned.
 

Learned to savor. Learned to dwell. Learned to live
on the nourishment of glass
beads and air that leave
only texture on the tongue. To leave the skin
an unfurred cloth that weeps
its charge. To harbor only untried faiths.
 

III.
Poised above the star-
gazers' stiffening
necks, amid dialects


and loss, I am reckoned
 45 as among the supergiants: We decay,
or arc to ground.

Verse Daily


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