17 May 2013

FOREST HONOR STODDARD

"The typist lived in a kind of limbo, hovering between heaven & hell." C.L, The Hour of the Star


tiny brimfilled winejar

just colors to design us in
someone's exploding
across the lake
  catastrophe bangs echo
are we in a rough neighborhood

I feel like a tough place, sometimes
on the lake in a dark wet breeze,
    Do you think we do things on purpose that are harder & worse for us?

it's raining on me, on my books
  my winejar has turned into a kalimotxo jar
it's raining around that good lighter
 and on The Hour of the Star
   and on The Blue Notebooks

Forest Honor Bali

  at the cabin we wear our
cut off cardigan sleeves
  as legwarmers
over our jeans
     they end up looking like
  festival wear
      burning the forest down
       with all the lights & smoke & vibrations
I have smoke face
mouth, ears, nostrils all smoke
smoke in my eyes

do clouds get thinner when they rain?
is it just
  I  L  L  U  Z  H  U  N  N  N  N
trying to be a poet in the rain
  trying to use a notebook in the forest?
           Climb a boulder
           Drop a laptop in a lake
  attend poets diversity college
   and get one for free
     if you graduate