Ten Tibetan lesbians join hands to form the beautiful skingraft called sleep
With bare hands of flood they caress the yellow machinery floating out of my ears
Because just as the holding hands is burned up in the embrace the
Meanwhile all the room’s corners are visible in one mirror
Held up by foam
–from Nights of Naomi by Bill Knott
~~
Mr. Knott recently encouraged me to post a PayPal button, so I looked him up. Memorius 6. Read his poems here freely. I posted the PayPal button too as thought experiment. I am listening to Sparklehorse today – RIP – & preparing for tomorrow’s installment in the book of interviews with Ron Padgett. Carry on this-existence.
~~
p.s. Come to the Stain of Poetry this Friday, March 19th @ 7 p.m. and buy me a drink. Or I’ll buy you one.
Disclaimer: if you decide to use MY poem for your blog, then i do need you to ask for my approval and link my blog along with it. This is mine and although i post it it doesn’t mean you can plagiarize and post it too.
You know, I’m getting older. I have lived this life of excitement and leisure. I have lived in beautiful places, had sex with handsome men, and i am not sure why I’m supposed to care. I watched the Academy Awards last night…alone. Bradley had to go to Spain for this writing thing over the weekend and I’m here in my apartment wishing that I had something to do. I do not want to drink, or smoke, or dance. I want to have a stimulating conversation with someone lovely.
I know I sound bat-shit crazy and this is not my normal tone of things, but I reflected on how many stable and real relationships that I have been in…no comment. I actually started thinking today about this single life that I have been leading. To those who read often, which is few, this is not my usual mantra. I know it seems like Bradley and I are together, but there is something that is not there…because of me. I have blocked him from loving me in the way that a man should. I like Bradley because he is fun and free, nothing more.
I went to the library and there was a woman scratching herself and singing loudly in front of a blank computer screen. For the ten seconds that I had my eyes on her, I had the scary flash of utter fear. Did she party hard and go through an array of gentleman that led to her sitting here with no one? I can not become that woman. My mother, before she left, told me to: get married young, divorce at 40, take the riches and run. Looking at the library lounge singing, my mothers words sound more exciting than before.
Lisa Raye is honored to be the first African American female in the history of Black Men magazine to get a 20-page layout. And this 40 something actress looks better than ever!! YOU GO GIRL!
I love myself
I want you to love me
When I’m feelin’ down
I want you above me
I search myself
I want you to find me
I forget myselfI want you to remind me
I don’t want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself, Oh no, oh no, oh no.
I Touch Myself – The Divinyls
–
It’s another weekend and I’m leaving you with this song. An all time favorite! Have a fun, sexy weekend, y’all.