the comfort of habitual living - the pleasures of rural life
afternoons spent translating a Plautine sex farce in a warm bookstore cafe - the barista's teasing me, and dancing to the soft perpetual 80's beat on the sound system
and I always end up with a book of poetry as I walk out the door.
Instant coffee with slightly sour cream
in it, and a phone call to the beyond
which doesn't seem to be coming any nearer.
"Ah daddy, I wanna stay drunk many days"
on the poetry of a new friend
my life held precariously in the seeing
hands of others, their and my impossibilities.
Is this love, now that the first love
has finally died, where there were no impossibilities?
-Frank O'Hara-
afternoons spent translating a Plautine sex farce in a warm bookstore cafe - the barista's teasing me, and dancing to the soft perpetual 80's beat on the sound system
and I always end up with a book of poetry as I walk out the door.
Instant coffee with slightly sour cream
in it, and a phone call to the beyond
which doesn't seem to be coming any nearer.
"Ah daddy, I wanna stay drunk many days"
on the poetry of a new friend
my life held precariously in the seeing
hands of others, their and my impossibilities.
Is this love, now that the first love
has finally died, where there were no impossibilities?
-Frank O'Hara-