Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Dissolution by Eileen Myles


sometimes I forget what country I’m in
I could write poems in bed
I think
have some Americans
look at your awful mov-
ie to tell you when
you’re wrong
& just racist. I got this bug bite
      that could be anything.
Got no new information
to send across. I’m willing
to embrace new sorta cray-
ony tone
      scribbled version
of empty so it’s kind
of full. A kid could draw this world
had been lived in
so long.

You forgot
to call your family
& now you’re ready to write an
bible of love.

The ripple
of experience is the
only beauty here.

My coloring book
why not is so
like a movie. And I just hand you this damp
coloring book
I say there. That’s my model.
Not the kind of laminate
shit you can bring
in the tub. I’m not making some
picture book of bourgeois
life. A damp
coloring book
is naturally
orange. You left
it outside   now you want to save
it?   It’s still good
    and that’s your secret.

How did a mosquito
get under these sheets. Knocking
against my calf. They
stop when I stop
thinking about them. The book
that was my very
private thing
is gone.


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