140 Fragments
1-14
I could say anything, and you wouldn’t know.
There is no one else.
Stand me on a chair, and call me Hope.
Loving is easy when you breathe God.
So many lives: I want to live them all.
Everyday with you holds an exquisite unoriginality.
Think: rational milk without guile.
A macaw squawks in my throat.
I’ve pilfered someone else’s passion.
He’s singin’ in Swahili & strummin’ a guitar.
A jar of ice jade melted.
You’re not welcome here.
I wish I could feel sincere.
The world is flat and I am a garden.
15-28
Sir, addressing the floor in such a manner is inappropriate.
Sulk—now there’s a mood in which to sink.
Too often I dwell atop a brink of petulance.
Come away with me. Be a gazelle.
She cried into the night.
What is right?
She cried into the light.
“Do you know what I feel when I pass by a mission? ”
She wears red silk scarves and carves birch boxes.
To each of 40 faces, he prayed, “I am you.”
Ich bin du.
What have you been through?
Here’s the unwelcome twist of the exhibitionist.
Today, we make the same decision again.
29-42
Such love is wearisome, a well without a bucket…
The rustling is too delicate, too distant…
Wonderment is a flesh thing, which crawls out of the cold.
Spatial slurs in a sphere of stars: listen.
I put chili peppers in sugar cookies.
She ignores me, so I chatter to the room.
I blame it on the air pressure, playing accordion with my brain cells.
I have no competition when it comes to barefoot races in the snow.
Nevertheless, I always end up burying dead soldiers.
How terrifying to be abandoned.
One cannot help but think of snakes.
My first wedding: I was the groom.
His hair shone like buttercups.
We are French, and fried green tomatoes taste like oysters in a rainstorm.
43-56
Truths: all mine smack me in the face.
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poem by Indigo Hawkins
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