Skin is tears, it says in my sleep, & I’m touching every book
Or at least that’s how it feels, like bass fishing. Like bass fishing.
There’s a song, “Summer Breeze,” but no I won’t do that.
Anything else, or debt. The view from the garden rains less & less
In the painting. There is no clarity & I dim the lamp
To strain the whiteness of my screen, my diamond.
At the party there’s a feminine allegiance, & we party.
I’M A MATURE PERSON, BUT MY FANTASIES
THEY’RE TOTALLY UNBALANCED.
I spill Lacroix on my exotic nature. Everything else,
Or bored. The cruelty fucking sings to me. Fucking
Vapors sing. A soft taco supreme. & whatever
Else, these marks, vast orange libraries of but no
I won’t do that. What’s in this duffle bag
Makes me feel fine, & I drag it through the parking lot
Singing, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.
Nick Sturm is the author of How We Light, from H_NGM_N BKS, as well as a number of chapbooks including, with Wendy Xu, I Was Not Even Born (Coconut) and, with Carrie Lorig, Labor Day (Forklift, Ohio). Poems have appeared in Black Warrior, Typo, jubilat, PEN, Sixth Finch, and Best American Nonrequired Reading 2014.
Post a Comment