October 14, 2009

Archive number ONE

This is a poem I read at The Bowery Poetry Club in New York. That was a fun night...

zhang xiaogang, a big family.

The image is Zhang Xiaogang's 'A Big Family'.

There was a discrepancy.
He shock fell
dinner. (Na’s Cottage Pie)

And the doctor
(OK, Delia lie)
shouted nothing.

Potato starching
over a grown
stint. Oh, mould.

The milk stood dry.
At least, if chosen,
it would stand to melt.

TV moans again,
like sediment. Like dust.
Or, not now, crisps.

It was all the glaze,
the aversion.

Written on a mass-
market plaque,

this is our grief,
to care (more).

But she forgets,
oh. Pride.

Claw money. In
that talon.

Same second.
Claw money.

There is rot

Always oil

My skinplant

I cannot say

I watched him move

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