Poems for July 29
July 29, 2012 § Leave a comment
A popstar’s a trunk in which vision’s
buried. That shrill almost-beauty begs
exegetes. Certain songs, events, films
corrode, and never become gestures
(Ashbery). In a thrust is such pleasure.
To die in her armpits, high octane!
But the song’s peppy, not compelling.
Exiting the ER, the gale took
up my petticoats, or would have if.
The Royal Tenenbaums
The price of real estate burns us all.
Replete with symbolic capital,
we conjured a chatelaine, brunette,
her silverplated scissors hinting
at replenishing the irises,
long-bearded and brown and spooky, and
the debate a hip one, phrases like
ice. Came a warm day, we were as gods.
But a sulky night, puke moon, horndog.
Two poems by Kathleen Ossip, from Cinephrastics (originally published by horse less press in 2006 as limited edition chapbook [the copy owned by Looking Back at Orpheus is 29/50]; now available for pdf download here).