Poem in Your Pocket Day 2014

In my pocket this year was “An Archive of Confessions, A Genealogy of Confessions” by Joshua Clover. For the syrupy drag, the terrible magnet of love, the free will, the bluing evening, and the excellently pointless.


Evening Walk Remembering One Morning

I thought of a Manhattan epitaph:
"We were miserable, but the bagels..."
Restaurant owners, a tip:
a basket of bagels
brings glory to morning.
Our souls rise like phoenixes,
mythical bird of suburban
dream dictionaries!
We squawk, triumphant!
I want tequila!
(What's plural for 'phoenix'?)
Let's hire interns!
I swear one day
I'll write something
quiet, incisive,
but for now just know
the brunch was, in fact,
in Brooklyn.


Memory Research

Memories are a globule of one substance in another
Usually a gas in a liquid
Memories may remain intact when they reach the surface
of the immersive substance

Sometimes memories are just air in agitated water,
such as below a waterfall

Memories form and coalesce into globular shapes
Memories can be seen because
they have a different refractive index
than the surrounding substance

In speculative memories
prices are at variance with intrinsic value
An example is the Tulip Memory,
a memory in the 1630s and a metaphor for other memories

Memories are often only conclusively identified in retrospect
A sudden drop appears
This is called a crash or a memory burst

The Local Memory is a cavity in the interstellar medium
It contains the Solar System
It is at least 300 light years across
The Local Memory is the result of supernovae that exploded
within the past 20 million years

When disturbed memories oscillate in size
Some memories only last a few seconds before bursting

Memories are used for children's enjoyment
Memories are used in artistic performance

When light shines memories appear to change color

The longevity of a memory is limited by the ease of rupture
of the very thin layer which constitutes its surface

This was inspired by the replacement prompt from Day 12 of NaPoWriMo. This post isn't a poem as much as a copy-and-pasting exercise from Wikipedia, but I liked the idea because of the language it introduced.



Your name tastes gentle,
Like petals brushed against my lips.


District Road Trip

We trained
We turnpiked
We Ninety-Fived

To see

A blossom
Our cousin
Our friend

Our cousin says
"I'm confused. All the trees are in bloom!"

Our friend says
"Hookah tastes like old man shoe."

I say give me walks with them again


Adventures in Poetry (not a poem, only background)

1. My father reads my family "The Night Before Christmas" every Christmas Eve.  My sister memorized it before I was born.

2. In 7th grade Language Arts, Matt and I performed "The Raven."  He was the raven.

3. In 9th grade, we had to divide up into groups and set the prologue of Romeo and Juliet to music. Beth, Cristine, and I chose "The Bunny Hop." I remember Melissa's group did "Chim Chim Cheree."

4. In 11th grade, the entire class had to memorize and individually recite "Loveliest of Trees."  I still know the first verse by heart.


LBI Aubade

I mistook the wind
rustling the curtains
for your fingers on paper

In my own bed
(separate twin)
I lay still
slow, measured breathing

I lay still
all night wondering
what you were reading

When dawn crept in
I dared turn

Morning illuminated
the geography of your back

I bathed in that

I rose, tired and foolish
begrudging wind and light
fleeting things


Years later
I inked a sketch
the half-hidden view

Your body a sun
the pitched roof's beams


Morning Walk to Work

Forecast for morning walk: overcast with smoke from the west.  Broadway sidewalk = black bubble gum ghosts, and the grates a grave for cigarette butts. Pass sinister unshaven doormen of Nomad Hotel. Import/export handbags wholesale. The R underfoot. I can hear it. Head swims with scansion and standard deviation, and I plot a caffeination. I can't hear it.  I can't hear it for the singing, my own singing. Torso jewels, Monaco is moving!!! Someone else has moved.

Child's Garden

The moon
The stars
And chocolate bars


Some Nights

Incessant rattle of the hail,
my foul fever dream expires,
I scratch insomniac and wail,
Thrashing with desire.



Born on Independence Day,
Forged in a laundromat--
Morristown, N.J.--
Firework of confidence,
Realist incarnate,
Loudest of three loud sisters,
Master of ceremonies,
Master of stories,
Jokester and scholar,
Tempest in a trench coat,
Hurricane Bonnie!

she calls us.

We are not her darlings.

We are members of her
raucous, writhing, striving tribe.


Wachovia Bank, 2004

Tethers frayed
asphalt glint
lie stings
sure of it


1 and 2

I mean, who knew about this 30/30 challenge? I think we should try it.  With time limits or the ability to opt out.

1. Things I Carry

This fucking phone.
These wrinkles, these extra pounds around the abdominals,
Quickness to anger,
Quickness to despair,
Quickness to elate,
Every song you ever said you liked,
Fear of being duped,
Belief in God,
(Recently) my grandmother's prayer card,
I carry your heart with me, per e.e.,
The bathing suit my mother always told us to pack.

2. Knock on the Door

In Manhattan no one knocks on my door. You have to be buzzed into the building.