Sunday, May 30, 2010


Listening to strings
Maybe not holding too tightly to things,
I’ve watched lots of sweaty bottles slip,
Endlessly, to the tile; hit;
And jump up shattered.

I’ve got fillings loose in eight bowls,
Three or four kinds of oil,
Four or five vinegars
In event of salad.
I’ve got spoon-shaped Minnie Mouse eyes
And plates for hands.

My fingers are clock and calendar,
My bed, a board with two pillows.
The door bangs in my ringing ears
And the cake-tin wind chimes chime.

There’s the stick and staff I spin
While staring at the smoke detector;
Candles and a transistor radio
For emergencies –

I’ve got a slinky
And a Superball for my set of jacks
And a styrofoam cooler
To keep these objects:
My face and head,
A compass and a vacuum.

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