Tuesday, September 15, 2009

.maps., v. 2

At 40 degrees Latitude and -73 Longitude,
he handed me a children’s book and I shook
my head. He called me “kidnappable,” said,
“Oh,” too often, stayed four of seven days.

I asked the difference of 27 and 21.
He answered, “China,” offered more word
math: Flatter + Dryer = Topography,
Beard (<) Bald, so, “Sleep next to me.”

He plucked leaf-skeletons away, pushed
back onto grass and demanded other-than-
animal visions from rain clouds. I tried
to teach arms aren’t all the same.

We adapted, sponges, made a plan:
Grant good, honest honey. Trade poisons.
Crest clavicle and come closer. Whisper,
“Watch while I become less bad.”

He rose, angel begging anchor,
followed words about bone, took trains,
traced the tunnels of my brain,
slipped page-presents under my door.

Water-logged, he left for land, mailed
message later, “Dehydrate. Just juggle
beards, Little Poet, and glue of broken
continents. Mountains will miss you.”

1 comment:

Adam I Zucker said...

I really enjoy the formulas you use in your writing. It makes everything that much more important and vital.