fear of flying, part 4
.
in a period when an economic
stimulus plan is fingering
the six hundred expendable
dollars in your pocket
it is only fitting
to find out midflight
that the airline has filed
for bankruptcy, has been
bought by a competitor, or
has announced a merger
halfway between
pouring the first cup
of cream and the last
pack of sugar
.
20080415:2347
y

starting monday, the i.r.s.
will begin lining our bank
accounts with a glitter that
no bear can rub off

starting monday, america
will once again graduate
at the top of her class, this time
without leaving carnage

starting monday, bush
will use the word
“recession” like a dandelion
puff, just under pursed lips

it’s monday
.
20080425:1702
y

april crushing –
trading furtive glimpses
through a calculated
slice of doorway
.
20080412:1921
y

things often end
when you realize that
some things never
end, and there is
no longer an ache
to hold hands and wait
.
20080425:1442
y

i try to thin down
this image of me
built up by your
appointed distance
measured
in degrees
of safety

i try to thin down
this need
for our fingers
to crisscross
as though it takes two
to hide anything
worth hiding

i try to thin down
this growing solitude –
the one that enjoys
whittling down all of
the rest, the one that holds
a magic mirror
to my everyday face
.
20080422:1723
y

it sounded like rain this morning
with the sun stalled
behind six or eight
wheels of a galumphing
garbage truck.
braking every two
seconds, one can almost
smell the wet tires
pressing rain into burnt
waffles across an asphalt
belt. something got jammed
in the door and dragged
for three yards before i noticed
a splash of torn
in its rearview mirror –
the fabric of my tattered sleep
.
20080404:0809
y

wanted
.
in front of the gazebo entrance
at union square station
black, green, and red, i stood
like a flag in the wind
at half-mast, until you
tunneled-visioned me
from five long-legged
strides away, eyes holding
3...2...1..
and passing –
leaving me in the wake
of a faint smile.
that was fiftyfour minutes
ago...fiftyfive, fiftysix
you looked like a writer
or superman
on clark kent mode
in which case, this is where
we may start falling
if you like that kind of stuff
.
20080403:1853
y

(for t)

you have let
the tulips
dry
so perfectly –
like wild grass
with their phosphorus
tulip heads a heavy
crimson, over muted
bodies, a lighter shade
of neglect –
resembling twisted
matchsticks
rearranging themselves
in your innocent
beer stein
.
20080409:1146
y

you are back from a fourth
combat tour in Baghdad

i don’t know why
they call it a tour, you said

it’s feeling more and more
like football –
only with guns
.
20080408:2246
y

(for billie holiday)

billie holiday sat just
beyond the burning
horizon for six,
maybe seven, years
stringing her vocal cords
across a cheery red
spincasting rod,
swinging the line
forever into the dark
in the hopes of
nabbing this panfish.

then finally, on a
yet-to-be-shaped
morning, with unnamed
sorrow in my heart,
billie’s line caught
and – after carrying a long
hard song into the rippling
darkness – she knew
this one was for keeps
.
20080407:2147
y

with whiskey on my
tongue, a souvenir of your
johnnie walker smile
.
20080405:2330
y

morning remedy
.
on my fifth bag of frozen
berries wrapped in a wet
towel, Vladimir started
on the Schumann Träumerei –
a tough rival to overtake
when it comes down to
the magic of lulling
one swollen eyelid
to go down quietly
while the other stands
mesmerized
like an older child
defeating curfew
for the very first time
.
20080402:1058
y

(for Rachmaninoff)

on your birthday, i imagine
four very fragile
but still lovely
hands finally
breaking in
the two very new
Steinways Horowitz brought
as gifts overnight –
oh, how he
rolled them in so
loudly, both wrapped
in clear crinkly paper
like two bouquets
so that you could not
detect the singing
strings pulled
in breathless suspense
weighing upon the wheels –
and how they burn
now, hands and strings,
as concertos are swallowed
whole, once again,
inches above the reflection
of New York City
.
20080401:1712
y