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vol 2


Certainly Not a Woman I lay on my back In a field of barley wheat, A sunshine insomniac— A shipwrecked turtle— No one will guess I am here, And I know That No one is looking, And No one is finding, And No one is caring, Perhaps for a moment, Where I’ve run off to. Heaven alone knows I am here, And from heaven I am just A black dot in the wheat. The only consequence : an indention in the gold. the farmer will find it, but he will guess it was a deer or some wild animal or some thing— But not a man, and certainly not a woman.


Japanese Maple Yesterday they had us finger paintingI painted you as a Japanese maple, Your eyes covered up by those Pointy Little Leaves And your mouth by a twig. The leaves may look purpler Than you’ll remember But I think you would like it— I think you would hang it in Your bedroom Or over the fireplace And tell everyone I’d made it just for you. They would look at you strangely of course— (Not everyone has maple leaves for eyes, Meg, Or a twig where words Should be, But we know each other) You have always looked like That Japanese maple We had in the front yard— The one whose hair I’d hide in During the summer— Do you remember?


You came to fetch me at Dinnertime one day, And with you standing right There the resemblance Was striking

I remember I smiled at the realization And you asked me what was wrong.

The Unicycle i dreamt i was balancing with arms outstretched on a Unicycle while typhoon rain made the dusty streets of Thailand like chocolate cream and the women of that place looked at me strangely wondering why I hadn’t prepared my canoe and giggling —embarrassed— at my tragic youngness.



Art-let Vol. 2