Wednesday, December 7, 2005

I Have Seen The Sun

I have seen the sun
underneath your palm

You are holding a gun
between your toes

Between your lips
I am inspecting
a mop

We are talking, your mouth
is the back of a salmon

Don't go

Tuesday, December 6, 2005

Anne Sexton Patchwork Poems

Moist, moist,
I feel the skull

All the cocks
eating his toes

we swallow
the smell of a lover

I am aging
like popcorn


The wound is open
It makes me laugh

I open the mouth
wave after wave

Your head is what I remember


when your hands are cut off
we leave them on the shore

if I make love
I am a motor
popped out like jelly rolls

Good morning life
the buildings burn

[patchworks created from Anne Sexton's The Death Notebooks]

I stand at this window
warmer than oil or water

I will crouch down
a mouth like a cup

the doors open
I say hello


I lie on the floor
with his enormous misshapen mouth

a great hole in the earth
as if it were an ugly eye
as soft and as delicate as
the lips moving, mumbling,
blowing its way out of the snow.

Far off, in the field,
It was alone
blown up, at last

[patchworks created from Anne Sexton's Live or Die]