Saturday, April 3, 2010

August Kleinzahler, Sleeping it Off in Rapid City

Miss Emily Jones Nespith of Roanoke
Lets fall her precious lace hanky
But the gallant lieutenant takes little notice
His attentions elsewhere
Chiefly, in the direction of one Laura Grey Dwight,
Who, all agreed, had "blossomed" overnight
But the musk notes of the former's errant gift
Were not lost on the house cat, Pip
Curled behind the skirts of the beige sette

The quadrilles played on
But Pip, Pip was grooving to a limbic tomtom
Head like a bobble-doll's
Eyes like slits
Poor Pip
Drools at his lips
Caught in a proper fit
A 9-cycloheptadecenone-addled marionette
Mewing
--Kill me, fuck me, write me bad checks ("Seconday Sexual Characteristics")


Or:

The ants are very bad tonight
And the poison is old. ("The Single Gentleman's Chow-Mein")


Or:

The ceiling and walls are star maps
Breathing, alive
Those aren't stars, darling
That's your nervous system. ("Hyper-Berceuse: 3am")


The captivating, slick veneer of words
Proves more than mere-substantial. Like this book.
What's more disturbing than to touch the world
With half-distracted fingers and false looks? B+

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