Letter 19 – A Less Than Glorious Hack

 

Do

the dreams of preparation for chemical warfare or

flowers curled in August heat

change your itinerary?

When the vibraphone plays am

I supposed to paint dots or

touch mallets on canvas to paint

your literal picture of a jazz musician itching in her

skin?

 

For now

you can eliminate the Slaughter of the good

I by posting warnings.

Would the phrase a smiling language is better than a glorious hack

build an image in your mind    or is

a dream of dead air or the wrong song a

whole

new take on the

universe of lost potential?  The cramp

around the calf a sign of loving

myself too freely if love is a lonely physical encounter?

 

This is what happens in August it

isn’t just the light dying. It is not the absence of the

shit-covered Labrador

it is not the dream about golf pros moving to new locales it

is life turned daily into something resembling

poetry  -  or in today’s case a less than glorious hack.

 

 

7:30AM - 8.19.03

(Phrase taken from Love Poems I & II

and Language – Jack Spicer.)