a friend who was on the editorial board of a hip literary journal once explained to me that my poems were rejected because people on the committee objected to words like "ocean," "blood," or "womb" in them, and that these words exemplified the misguided tendencies of poets who went to graduate school at nyu and studied with sharon olds. If these words offend, please read yesterday's poem substituting "cunt" or "pocket" for "womb," "blue" for "breath" and egads, "thrump cap" or "lump" for "crystal."
skin might be problematic too. let's go with "race."

actually, this is getting interesting.

today's draft

Other Difficulties

At first, I was afraid of your skin,
slight chill from your pores that eases

the heat of a slap. Our scent shared
the acidity of fruit, shock of orange

against white. In Love and Other
Difficulties, Rilke says no one in this life

can help another, that we learn this
repeatedly, perhaps we’re here to.

Today my lover swims in a wooded lake
with a woman he used to love.

Sometime this week, twelve roses
went bad. The insistence of their floral

stench. Today I have clean lines,
a blank page. The blood in my womb

softening around the memory of metal.
The dream of the small, sterile room.

Quiet of letting go. I take in breath
for what we're building. Red robe, yellow

flannel pillow, taste of salt on the cake
we shared on the same side of a wooden table.

Whole, white crystals added complexity
to the sweetness, letting the flavor linger.

we all need dear old friends who are callable for wee hour freak-outs sometimes.

it helps if they are on pacific time.

all I have to say at the moment is that of course eliot spitzer should be governor,

like, duh.

It is 2:12 am in New York

and I want to call someone.

who do I call at 2:12 am in New York

My old friend Spring Ulmer has a beautiful blog about her time in Rwanda.

In Hudson for the first time in awhile, listening to cicadas instead of traffic and drug deals, stretching out my limbs, soothing the retina, re-membering.

Jumped off a rock into a river like I used to do in Colorado. Felt more lucky than invigorated afterward.

So many near misses; it's a wonder.

Tonight I saw Scoop at Upstate Films...Woody, what can I say. It felt a little like hearing your uncle tell the same story he's told many times and pretending it still makes you laugh.

more HEAT