MoPoems are brief reviews/recaps of movies.
Diving Bell and Butterfly
open light — not good
knots of images (train, child, curtain (or was it only an eyelid
burning?))
so close — — – 20 more lashes
the world, by frequency, an image alone
like a root of thought, or a leg up
to tell my first self
“Continu, don’t b m”
fool – only laugh for nothing
waiting like a poet waits in line
with an eye elsewhere (tombed inside)
read me a rabbit over tea
or play hangman on the beach, (wind in duress)
reciting, memorizing, – a life, a world
two for one in the church gift shop
arranging one’s look in a window
or an Olympic pool
(pleasure of cool grey fog) – in
beginning, there was a ring
(now i must write to my dad, it was his bday yesterday)
Lost in Translation
all the signs driving a city
extinguished by a mirror
and you, in the highest window
snubbing your toes in clouds
snared in sky-born roots
and together, a monument in shadow
Laura
One hot sunday, alone in NY
when lo (a smoking screen, bells of a clock)
“grin full of lead,” wrote the most misquoted man in LA
who refuses to write with anything but a goose quill
(door to door, the detective…)
sneaks a meal here, a drink there
(notebook: “What I know” underline underline)
speech competing to conclude
racing down logic’s great blue plains
fearful of the prophet’s desert
but eating her cake anyway
The Gift
a lil white lie, with a sparkly red bow tie
at the window, waiting,
just like fresh pie
like a good neighbor who fills your pond with koi
for dinner
beady eyes, like fish eggs
bursting bw the teeth of a monk
key to the kingdom, swallowed by a spell –
er, spill
cucumber gatorade puddle
birthing a fitter fish
turned amphibian
