- Reflections on Occupy.
- Reflections on Occupy.
- Three months of Occupy.
- Six Occupy stories you may have missed.
- The End of the Beginning.
- Signs that Occupy is having an effect.
- Empires don't apologize.
- Le torrent.
- Cities under siege.
- History of humankind in six frames.
- Media consolidation.
- Imagine shutting down military bases.
- American client states.
- She Who Is as Shitty and Oink Thiessen hate on Gingrich.
- 1%ers behaving badly.
- Gods and monsters.
- The limits of credibility.
- Kim's death, to me, is more interesting to consider than....
- The Great Sun Jester.
- Which makes me a complicitopolitan!
- Outer Beltway. There will be no bridge over the Potomac between the current Beltway and Point of Rocks.
- Pastoralia as Necropastoral.
- Hot sex in St Francois County?
- What if Bach was one of us?
- What corporate radio looked like.
- The Weather: A Report on Sincerity.
- Warm and soothing.
- Jeebus, get well Ira Kaplan.
FORK WITH TWO TINES PUSHED TOGETHER
It's fast and cool as running water, the way we forget
the names of friends with whom we talked and talked
the long drives up and down the coast.
I say I love and I love and I love. However, the window
will not close. However, the hawk searches
for its nest after a storm. However, the discarded
nail longs to hide its nakedness inside the tire.
Somewhere in Cleveland or Tempe, a pillow
still smells like M_____'s hair.
In a bus station, a child is staring
at L____'s rabbit tattoo. I've bartered everything
to keep from doing my soul's paperwork.
Here is a partial list of artifacts:
mirror, belt, half-finished 1040 form (married, filing jointly), mateless walkie-talkie, two blonde eyelashes, set of acrylic paints with all the red and yellow used up, buck knife, dog collar, camping tent (sleeps two), slivers of cut-up credit cards, ashtray in the shape of a naked woman, pen with teeth marks, bottom half of two-piece bathing suit, pill bottles containing unfinished courses of antibiotics, bank statements with the account number blacked out, maps of London, maps of Dubuque, sweatshirts with the mascots of colleges I didn't attend, flash cards for Spanish verbs (querer, perder, olvidar), Canadian pocket change, fork with two tines pushed together.
Forgetfulness means to be full
of forgetting, like a glass
overflowing with cool water, though I'd always
thought of it as the empty pocket
where the hand finds
nothing: no keys, no ticket, no change.
One night, riding the train home from the city,
will I see a familiar face across from me? How many times
will I ask Is it you? before I realize
it's my own reflection in the window?