Fun with a Rorschach Test card oneShe said"Look at this card,Tell me what you see."I said, "Gosh,I guess I see myself,You know?An inkblot's like a mirror,The way it's shaped byChanceAnd a fold of the paper.How like life,Right, doc?"She told me not to beA smartarse.I thought that wasA bit cheeky, coming as it did,From my ownFictional therapist. card twoShe said "Come on, now,Play the game.How about this one?"I sighedI triedI said"Well,I guess I see a million waysTo make the worldA bit more beautiful.Like writing poetry about rapeAnd tragedyIn a Mickey Mouse notebookThat always makes you smile.Or like greeting each change ofSeasonLike a delightful stranger,With glee and mild surprise,Or like loving daffodilsA bit too much."She smiled. "You're talking about Meg?"I said "More about the wayShe popped out my eyeballsAnd rubbed them clean on her sleeve.When she put them backThe world looked better."
disposable assetsI've been writing poemsnone of which are about you(except for this one)
like new york...i.everybody'sbreaking uppoetryb.everybody'sdrinking themselvessmartsee?location'severythingscore! (and seven years ago)we're all artistsaren't weand aren't we allso impressed
featheredand bang!bangs are dead.
Celery StreetMy brother used to get mad when I cried. We would sit in the blue and mock-wood paneled station wagon, no key in the ignition, just two bodies ready to lay our feet on the pedal. T's spine was straight and hot against the back of the driver's seat, his body creased at the hip and knee. He gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. Sometimes he would fumble with the radio, and I would turn my head away, looking to the contents of the garage. We never did take that car out.We would lie hip to hip in the grass behind the baseball field and strain our necks to look past the tops of the trees at the stars. T knew all the constellations. Andromeda. Orion. Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. He said that I have the Little Dipper on my arm. I always told him that he knew too much. He would just smile with tears behind his eyes.When we were kids, we swam in the lake behind the church. Like frogs with our goggles and fins, we could reach the bottom of the murky water and search fo