Wednesday, December 31, 2008

And then the dogs

this is written in the climate of the
woman whose father made a
simple knife her language is air
her air is – for Louise Gluck

the dogs they mesmerize
me with their wildness
the one usually vicious
now gentle with age

language is the only deep mystery
the alcohol no longer burns it off
provides one mundane stuttering in the
way of utter standing

Billy the big one
still wild and wild
still walking away and coming back

I look at them and they at me

I wonder about the bump on Bird’s shoulder
I wonder what they wonder

poetry is one contagious release
the sex lives of strangers now plain

you took me home
no stranger than a chorus of leaves falling maybe
took my clothes and my fears
into your mouth
and that night I began to have dreams
deep night hallucinations
sweet colored dreams

and then the dogs
for a moment teeth together
are wild together

dreams light
with moment, skin and structure

but the love the love feels
like atmosphere like a sky with pores
and I pouring into it
I say hey or whistle
and they the dogs bring their love to me

simple pencil drawn dreams

then they sit
the dogs
in different rooms

until it’s time again for
one another

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Friday, December 19, 2008

Sent from Sasha and Exaclty How I Feel

A Warning To My Readers

by Wendell Berry

Do not think me gentle
because I speak in praise
of gentleness, or elegant
because I honor the grace
that keeps this world. I am
a man as crude as any,
gross of speech, intolerant,
stubborn, angry, full
of fits and furies. That I
may have spoken well
at times, is not natural.
A wonder is what it is.

Thursday, December 18, 2008