Yeah, Canvas
Print
Yeah
And then I said “Denver”
“down and die” or something
you said. This great artifice of
what? I dunno. It’s just
a depressing sort of
straightforwardness. Calmly as
possible, persuasive, you
come in, you say
“I’m dying.” Don’t again. I
spin around this self
a kinda project, you see
not so much here, nor
this all around, and you
ambitious, too busy
with all that inherited
imaginary. Remember that time—
now time, there is this
all around and the you
“down and die” you said
“Denver” and I just
laughed and left and drove
Canvas
Scrappy grace,
wobbly politics,
let me count & broke I’ll
swoon. Tell us how
to do it and we’ll
fuck it up again.
Minus consistency,
all this gives up
smilingly, conscious
the postures, the unwitting didn’t—
most ways we
tell, the movement
from here to here
takes our pace. The
proximity in terms
we must care for
causes too much
talking. It’s the gestural,
your usefulness,
more than what
cares for me.
The idea’s dread
of its missing
persons, unsaid when
most say. Listen to
laughter’s obsession
with timing, and cruelty
finds a place for itself,
right where the
time goes. Irony is
a better conclusion
than conceit. My questions
ask for bread
while my body considers
the circumstances. Thoughts
dream bankrupt patterns
aimed at every
migrant constituency.
Ration your
denials. They are the
clapping of a polite
audience, the right noise
at the right time.
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