Walking down Haight from Buena Vista. Charlie’s doing his usual. Escorting me toward Divis to get a treat. One of his regular stops. Suddenly a skater’s bombing down that steep bit right before the light. Nose in the air. Doing some trick—I don’t know the fuckin name of it. He was going too fast. The instant I saw him I didn’t feel good about it. He continues straight into oncoming traffic. A walking lady is hit. A Subaru slams. Everything stops. People gather round quick. Some chick looks to her friend: “What just happened?” “That skater hit her.” A Muni driver gets out—it all happened right in front of his 7. She’s in the fetal position. Moaning, ghastly, rhythmic, like an animal. Like oooooo ooooooooo ooooooo. I wait for the light, cross at the walk. Charlie missed the whole thing and tugs me the other way to his next snack. Without intending to, almost trance-like, I find myself heading toward the commotion/stillness. She looks older, I can’t tell. Her face is buried in her hair. Similar to my natural color, a kinda mousy light brown. Thinner. Everyone surrounds her, an ambulance is being called, there’s nothing I can do to contribute, until I see the dude grab his skate outside the circle. No one is looking to him. He’s looking to the sky. Poor guy’s in shock. Saying to no one and everyone at once: “Fuck. Maybe we should get her to sit up.” No one heard him, no one acknowledged. He was shorter. Whitish dude with darker features. Baggy clothes. Physiognomy registered as neither attractive nor particularly sharp. He looked at me. I looked back, stared into him, jaw tight, and said under my breath, but loud enough so he could hear it: “Piece of shit” while walking away. Dunno where it came from, but it came up. Calm, upright, but absolutely heated inside. Not proud of it. She’s unconscious. The one whose whispers cut.
Tag: poem
Denise Levertov
Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.
I who don’t know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me
(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even
what line it was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,
the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can’t find,
and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that
a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines
in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for
assuming there is
such a secret, yes,
for that
most of all.
fulfill
“
If now she flees, soon she’ll chase.
If rejecting gifts, then she’ll give.
If not loving, soon she’ll love
even against her will.”
-Sappho
{ }
“
Words do not say the same things they do in prose; the poem no longer aspires to say, only to be. Poetry places communication in brackets in the same way that eroticism brackets reproduction.”
-Octavio Paz
The Double Flame
distant
“
Poetry is the shortest distance between two humans.”
-Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Poetry As Insurgent Art
⌨
“
If you would be a poet, write living newspapers. Be a reporter from outer space, filing dispatches to some supreme managing editor who believes in full disclosure and has a low tolerance for bullshit.”
-Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Poetry As Insurgent Art
tough
“
she believed that the damage
to her mind and heart was permanent,
until she met wisdom, who taught her
that no pain or wound is eternal, that all
can be healed, and that love can grow
even in the toughest parts of her being”
-yung pueblo (Diego Perez)
inward
poems for Pedro
I
it crept
II
taunted by my submission,
hopeless sin love,
I smiled it awake.
III
“almost done”
( ^ nope )
said the woman to the men
carrying the tufted leather couch
to the top of her
glittering
highrise
IV
he took so long to come
but now every capillary
is red and pulsing
V
can’t imagine seeing you
without words
I would want it
VI
everything breathing
VII
she is all I see in an eternal orgy
her face faces eyes
while he’s in her
he, a mystery
but she is me
VIII
he was beautiful
he’s still in me
IX
seashells he brought for me
stained with my ankle’s blood
X
it’s just
sun on a page
until you look away at another man
with a suitcase
XI
as soon as I drank him,
I went into a trance
and knew exactly what to do
oh no my pages run up quite soon
didn’t know he’d take up so much space
XII
let
the
bug
go
XIII
everything else
the ink leaves out
XIV
slowly
he took
his time
with me
XV
doesn’t matter
what I do
it will go
XVI
he wouldn’t want to rush anything
all these weddings around me
a man sprints past
a woman poses
a boy in Doc Martens shamefully stuffs
a plastic checkered picnic blanket
into an overfilled trash bin
a little girl screams
“FLOWERS!”
XVII
all the leaves
I can’t collect or recollect
still fell
XVIII
two men on their way
with a gallon of cooking oil,
preparing love
XIX
eye contact with a skater
as he bombs the hill I climb
it’s all happening in front of me
while I’m busy writing it down
XX
back through
the same alley I entered
of course I can’t breathe
with my nose plugged
XXI
he gave me a poem
+/
Everything he spoke sounded like regurgitations heard before. Isn’t every word? Doesn’t all expression come from someoranother? Can it be tapped straight from an unfiltered prime/pineal source? May translate through combinations of rule, encoded through, but it can. It can it can and it might feel mad but let it.
choking tropics
waiting to depart the room we arrived,
uncertain which gate screens won’t update.
she said it was not a cultural experience,
the maids, the service with a smile,
the menu, prices in U.S. dollars.
excess overflowing the absence
washed-up onshore, discarded at sunrise.
you can have it all on this island in the middle of everywhere.
cloaked women sweep our trace
inhale smoke blown oversea
what a miracle it would be to make it out breathing