Monday, December 14, 2009


“You can run but you can’t hide.”

It turned out that this wasn’t true.

I love the stories of James Tate. I love where they go. I don’t know where they go exactly, but that’s why I love

You, I said to Susan

And I love you, too, is what
the man said on the radio. He was

Talking about the old days, and vodka.
Too, I love you, Buddy, yet I am so very afraid

When I hear the sound of the scampering
of little claws in the cauldron–LOBSTER CLAWS

I say to myself, LOBSTERS
like giant, beautiful cockroaches, red

and infused with vodka: langusta, à la vodka,
which is beautiful, but the best part is lang–

gusta, the lobster, and the best part of langusta
is gusta: mucha gusta! To enjoy, to savor, as

long as you can–ask the cockroach if he has
any regrets–you know, a whole life can be filled with a carousel

of colors: a flood of pink and green and orange and yellow

sometimes the wall is blank

as snow, floating tin the bathtub,
dreaming about a wonderful trip

down a dark drain, it isn’t, really

a good dream

but it is a dream, still,

a dream

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