LOOSE ENDS

Waiting for

a visitor.

 

The Weather

 

The weather

is weird.

 

I’m always

repeating myself.

 

Of course

I’m afraid

of my shadow.

 

Have you

met her?

 

~

 

My shadow

is older

than me

but appears younger.

 

 

The weather’s

not withholding.

 

I’m always

withdrawing.

 

My shadow

says that

feels nice.

 

~

 

Weather might

be exegesis

 

or God’s

pheromones.

 

I don’t know.

 

I’m always

forgetting something.

 

My shadow

losing interest

spaces out.

 

~

 

Weather offers

a blind face.

 

My shadow

ignores me.

 

I’m always

depleting myself.

 

Of course

I’m afraid.

 

 

 

LOOSE ENDS

chatter. 

L=U=G=G=A=G=E 

Everything

that is

the suitcase.

 I've been going through things, getting rid of things and found the first issue of Satellite Telephone, a print magazine out of Seattle that was published in 2007.

I've 3 poems in the mag, poems which I hadn't preserved but that I like.  Here they are:

WHILE I WAS OUT

My vocabulary

did what?!

THE CURTAIN

between you

and I

has two

cut-outs.

Through one

you read

my lips

and through

that other

I caress

your crotch

until we

come to

switch positions,

begin again

with a

curtain stretched

between us

just so.

WHILE I WAS OUT

You enjoyed

my symptoms

much more

than me.

 Between before

and after,

between here

and there,

where what's

working snows.

 New from Mark Young:  https://mhcyoung.blogspot.com/2023/09/100-titles-from-tom-beckett-2.html

This car's

a peach.

Really.

It's got

a pit

and everything.

That's why

we need

to stop.

I edit 

myself all

the time.

Except when

I don't.

Then the shit

hits the fan.