267 Readings | 2 Ratings
from Blue Flowers
What is a posset? asked Ted Berrigan in an interview I don’t really know either Something like a jacket I suppose A packet arrives in the mail And where it comes from someone feels awkward Should I sell you out, should I send you home In that prose, my novel I keep It keep it! It’s mine And from now on whatever someone shall take away from me I’ll follow And I shall be gone from myself It is spring again in January and leaves dangle We are ourselves and I imagine We do it very well What is money It is paper like a book written not To sell What it says goes beyond the market, into our hands What I am spending Is a book titled, “On Breath” or “The Journey Up-Country” That great Stone chair From which He watched How small Were his Fellows What color was it? White White stone Buried slowly In green grass Can you understand this, can you come away from the window, the screen My eyes flick on, they look I started writing someone else’s poem
Posted 09/08/09