Occupational Therapy
I coffee-stain my pages now
learned how in O.T.
crazy maybe but nothing gonna come between
decoupage and me
ceramic fisherman
christmas trees
half of us high on Jesus
the other half on our knees
vance killed himself
before his project was through
I went in with glue and popsicle sticks
to see what I could do
patients assembling and resembling
figures of clay
statutes of policemen
that put us away
vance would’ve said something funny
were he here today
he got freedom the hard way
some people say
matchstick fortresses
in a house of cards
some of us speechless
some of us barreds
I coffee-stain my pages now
decoupage got nothing on me
I’ll never forget the ceramic relationships
I built in O.T.
Thinking About You
got a crush on you
the size of the moon
it’ll crush me too
if I don’t see you soon (Refrain)
I’ve counted from 100 backwards
like zero knows what to do
I’ll bet someone created the world
just to stop thinking about you
you’ve opened up a tunnel in me
I’ve never made it through
I’ll bet some genius built New York City
just to stop thinking about you
I’m sort of becoming a puzzle
held together without glue
but even I’ve considered exercise
just to stop thinking about you
I don’t know my history
only what I’m going through
but I’ll bet Columbus went looking for America
just to stop thinking about you
Holier Than Thou
sometimes I do things that
make me feel dirty inside
I look up at God and wonder
if I even tried
got a tattoo of a vagina
on my penis
an item I’d like you
to keep between us
the natives know better than to trade it for the Brooklyn Bridge
no one wants a magnet of it clinging to their fridge
I wouldn’t mind it so much if I could just move it over a smidge
it’s supposed to be all-powerful but I can’t stand the privilege
got a tattoo of a driveway on my penis
where I wish you’d come park your car
we could sit out on the hood all night long
making love between the stars
sometimes I imagine things
that make me feel warm inside
got a tattoo of the hole in my credit
and I wonder if I ever even tried
Snow Job
(for Heather McHugh)
I bought another poetry anthology
got about halfway through
then I rushed to the index
cause the only I trusted is you
poetry anthology
hefty tome
lofty in case you’ve got
low ceilings at home
one wheel drive
twentieth century mud
minds spew all over the place
but I’m still stuck
learned that verse this winter
off the height of a storm
I’d submit it as poetry
but I don’t have the form
museum of death
precious words run deep
solitary writers who no longer have any say
in the company they keep
there’s no room in this compendium
for the effervescence
it packs more punch per page
than even adolescence
poetry anthology
force-fed tome
ironic in case you’ve got
things a little too easy at home
another volume of poetry
without any laughs
if you’re not gonna brighten my day
just stick with paragraphs
acquired me a century of poetry
made it halfway through
before I ran to the index screaming
’cause the only one I trust is you
Apologies to the Editor (Or, The Ace Up My Sleeve Is Self-Doubt)
I mean no harm toward The 20th Century Anthology of Poetry, edited by Rita Dove. She was a teacher to me and I admire her a lot. I have personal quirks with reading poetry that bear no reflection on this anthology.
The reason I bought it was every time I opened it I came upon Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem about the Society Charity Ladies. I looked around a lot for this poem, and the fact it was in this collection resonated with me.
I would venture to say it’s one of the most inclusive and honest poetry anthologies I’ve ever come across. This is a wisely assembled book.
I wrote a rave-up (see above) about the anthology to Heather McHugh, a personal favorite of mine. I wouldn’t have done that had she not been in the anthology.
Forgive me for not pointing this out before I sent the rave-up to Ms. McHugh.
Sincerely,
Carmelita Estrellita