"life," i said, beginning a list
of things i would be better
off inventing lies about less.
"life, you as a china cabinet,"
"a quiet francophone lover."
and i always mean to draw
little spinnerets of interest
from your lace-webbed hands
but i didn't expect your reply:
"forgotten postcards, insistence."
my sparring matches are quilted,
barriers built of corrugated cardboard
and chocolate, and soft introspection
pouring like sand into the hourglass
of my mouth. you say my instistence
on your insistence is a lie i made from
sweet-smelling tape songs. i tell you,
"christening mysteries, and vintage
realities; a swift swish of persian rugs
and faith as it comes out from under you."
little spinnerets of interest
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beautiful. may i link your site?
ReplyDeletei should be honoured.
ReplyDeletebut you're not?
ReplyDeletehaha. :P
post: i wish i could take it apart. i'm uncertain that it can be taken apart. but, i'd like to know what you were thinking when you wrote it.
mm.. it's not such a secret, which is why i pretend it is. it's basically very meta?
ReplyDeleteJanie! What is this! I leave for a week and I'm expecting a whole week's worth of jazzlaw to catch up on, and this is IT?!
ReplyDeleteOh well. It's quite awesome nonetheless.
I've been reading Sylvia Plath's Ariel, and I'm pretty sure you wrote it.
I'm sorry?
ReplyDeleteYou know how it happens.. some days you can't contain your poetry and you post three times but some weeks it just doesn't happen? I'm not sure. If I had have known there was such a pause I would have corrected it, but one thing I try very hard to ignore is how often I post on here.
I forgive you. Out of understanding.
ReplyDeleteYou certainly write more than I do anyhow.