a sliver for you (not there)
1. [subway en route to spring]
waking up to an empty bus is
harsh. a frenzy of headlight glimmers,
The screen door-- fiber
slams. I wait. Consequentially,
Likewise, anyway, all of the above
I tend to think I have waited for the bit of time,
the endless bit, you know.
Spiraling towards infinity
But not really.
I am tired. Then again
I've never been one to say.
A car passes. I am quite blinded
rendered a prophet in one breathe
though that is neither here nor there.
For that matter-- where?
"did you miss me when I was gone"
But it is a testament to the pillar of
familiarity (family with air)
that we still like to ask questions there are
an empty bus is harsh.
but not as harsh as waking up
to an occupied bus
you don't talk to me
2. [black eyes think they still see sky]
It's the sound that
drives me insane.
The metal clanging of chairs, sirens,
and the slow steady stream of
ice tea or words. I can't tell.
lucky bamboon on her desk mimics the shape of wine.
you give me your hand.
I don't know
what I am supposed to do with
When you get sick of
you can come back to me
and I'll offer the only solace I have left:
"I told you so."
3. [what if engels loved marx]
my history book has a habit of
opening and closing
like a badly made jewelry chest in the hands of
a grubby banker.
the pages where their names are written
only a word apart.
marx and engels?
marx and hegel?
and the idea of history through conflict.
What if engels loved the x in the name
and marx quite loved the e's (of which he had none)
only to find hegel had 2 e's too
a "h" and a "l" to furthermore
which stand for?
"history " and "love" respectively egregious?
or "he" and "lives/loves/longs/laments"
of which engel had a "n" and a "g"
(no and graves)
for a ghost which had no repast
4 letters new undiscovered unmarked
a mouth full of consonants and
and what if engels quite loved it all
karl marx who had an "x"
which engel, with all his e's and l's
did not understand nor encompass
in the distance, a quotation mark. that is all that cares to remain.
when will you
want me like engels wanted marx
when will you want
to know which letters equals what
straw snow covered conversation we will end destroying
and come time you will leave her
without even a last quotation mark
in the shape of a phone cradle.
4. [a fistful of fire]
You compose your letters by looking at
singularily curved white jade statues
while suddenly realizing it depends
"on us to propel our age."
this from the mouth of withered babes.
Define this phrase, "our age".
It belongs to us, but
it has the belonging of a slightly
We put glass slippers in porcelain vases (don't forget to water)
to replace all the chandeliers our voices have cracked.
We swap our leather sandals
for these black creaky revolutionary boots.
Stick a pen in your mouth. Chew. Write. Repeat.
We should stop writing these instantenous
and frightfully brief letters
someday we will stop writing with tight blue pens
and in our hands in its stead
blowtorches that will be enough
to snuff out the calmness of a fairy tale.
Babayaga in my dreams, her chicken feet scratch.
even without boots.
5. [subway back from a paris spring]
The bus that was so harsh
coming towards me
stationary waiting for the rain
and it will rain. Whether or not
you want it to. Look up and shake your head
"It'll freeze the flowers."
As if you cared.
But I will not say this out loud, but wait instead
for you to stop fiddling with your backpack straps,
working like steel pumps
to start the bus
with the hiss of your words.
the word for today is stymy.
A/N: Engels loving Marx is all due to the genius of Paradoxical Goddess. A Subway En Route To Spring is rather gacked off a Chinese movie entitled Subway to Spring, or something like that.