I searched my heart,
the street, my ex-‘s habits, my family
I searched them all
for opportune neuroses
That I could jot down
for my poetry
And calm my nerves and
hide the focus
Five fathoms deep in something posy sounding.
For after all, don’t I
claim to be
Some seashell bard,
some grounding
Mama, some prophet of
the salty sea
Minus the albatross around
my neck
(come to tell you all)?
-
No? I’m here to sample wreck
I’m here to smear the
large and small
Until disproportion
proposes
That we go for a
little walk, you and I,
A little walk with pretty
poses.
A little truism, a
little lie,
Logos burning a hole in my pocket
“Like her fair eyes,
dude, the day was fair”
I was going up like a
rocket
A perfect movement in
the down and dirty air
And heard myself gibbering
like a bat
while the air grew
ever more blind
and thick with those
who flew, shrieked and shat
panting for the breath
we’d left behind
until at last I found
the perfect line, filled with blood
and sucked it all dry
and fell and understood.
-Karen Chamisso
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