Tuesday, March 10, 2009

this heavy house

observe them drinking the laughter out of the air, smell
their vowels; taste their assonance and echo. I still feel

my favorites drinking my sweat, biting
my tongue, sucking alliteration and active verbs

from my pussy. the words keep coming ~
see this wrinkling brow; caress this grey hair;

fuck these fingers which keep typing. I am
tired of dead poets around my dining room table.

FRIENDS: I've been absent for awhile. Living life, observing deaths and evaluating the future. I wrote this thinking about the passing of my friend Brenda Moossy.

1 comment:

Karen James said...

Glad you are back, Christina. I missed you. I am sorry for the loss of your friend. I think of you often.