Brooklyn Anchorage

I Love This Poem. Lisa Jarnot is the kind of writer who has the words you thought were yours, only looser, yet more precise.

Poem Alasis

Poem Alasis

In the boiling teapot
leaves swirl and gurgle
themselves
into a mingle.
Vacantly gesturing
at one another,
turning the water
a vivid red.

The steam curls all pretty
against a blue wall as
The sun
all fills the room
all happy and warm.
And Relentless.

Damn,
I'm going to miss those
epic midwestern thunderstorms
in California.
the Black clouds
Roiling
between zags of electric light
The Rage.

Which raises the question:
Humingbirds or
Thunderstorms?
Milk or whisky?

As I attempt to destroy
everything around me
Camus avec Camus
flutters in my ear,
"What we risk is
what we value"

(among other rules)
I can always remember

To drink the red tea,
I brewed,
so carefully, and yet
without hesitation.

Okay Day

As if a coil were drawn in the sand representing something much like a fish scale, singular, and shiny and profound. I asked you here to make sense with. Yet somehow I am lost in the blank spaces of words. between the / time .Leave me. A casserole. There, hug flakes drifting down to the burning touch of a cheek. Why won’t you wake me without this dream? I am intolerable above ground. Says the worm. I am slighter than your two hands can manage. In the lily pad surface of the earth, eyes bulge in their dying wish. And wonder. I slept tewleve hours last night in mind of buildings and appointments and impending vacations. Hearing all the fuzzy breaks of wave on tormented beach. There are ships at distances with every mans wishes on board. I wish I was a mind reader somedays. Heatbreak is a fading suggestion from indifference. Speaks the ocelot. Speaks the reader. Joyless, Esctatic, it’s all the same return to nothingness. Sizzling through our fingers as they dig tirelessly of the soil.