poem for tiffanie
these: your unburdened arms, a lifted leg to cross over one and lean back, your hands on your feet listening to gram parsons and filling out postcards to the netherlands where one friend was lost for weeks, found in dark bars, reading kant a series of coffee cups and measurements of days turn out so much like asterics and raised lettering for the blind but how slowly we translate into thoughts what means so much these: your careful footing on stairwells and a satchel of books across your shoulders, a line of ageless beauty true takes new shapes daily, i am stupified by your overdone anthologies of careful wordings your settled feet on floors, your shimmery skirts, movement that comes from the same makers as fountains and scuplture. these: your fingers across canopy arches, your ever-clicking camera eyes that lend you so slow to the sea carried away like the greatness of Pollock and the fingers he studied so carefully before working; shouldn't it be more like solar flares and chances to build great cathedrals, named and tried to match your glances these: your knotting hands pressing hemp-rope through pages putting together a story of you lost, you won sometimes the better of us'll burn for what we've done and you'll be there, taking mental notes and undeerstanding why
2004-06-22 | 6:57 p.m.
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