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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