So following Doctorow's lead--even though he wouldn't
have any idea who the hell I am--I figure if this is the party, I want in. So
I've created this online version of the first chapbook and it's being made available under the terms of a
Creative Commons license.
If you have previously read the physical version of the chapbook, there have been some very minor changes in some of the poems...mostly dealing with lineation. Working within the confines of the page sizes for the chapbook meant I had to compromise on a few lines just to get them to fit. Those have been restored.
As for the license, the short form of it is this:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0
Attribution. The licensor permits others to copy, distribute, display, and perform the work. In return,
licensees must give the original author credit.
No Derivative Works. The licensor permits others to copy, distribute, display and perform only unaltered
copies of the work -- not derivative works based on it.
Noncommercial. The licensor permits others to copy, distribute, display, and perform the work. In return,
licensees may not use the work for commercial purposes -- unless they get the licensor's permission.
And here's the license itself:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd-nc/1.0-legalcode
THE WORK (AS DEFINED BELOW) IS PROVIDED UNDER THE TERMS OF THIS CREATIVE COMMONS PUBLIC LICENSE ("CCPL" OR
"LICENSE"). THE WORK IS PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT AND/OR OTHER APPLICABLE LAW. ANY USE OF THE WORK OTHER THAN
AS AUTHORIZED UNDER THIS LICENSE IS PROHIBITED.
BY EXERCISING ANY RIGHTS TO THE WORK PROVIDED HERE, YOU ACCEPT AND AGREE TO BE BOUND BY THE TERMS OF THIS LICENSE. THE
LICENSOR GRANTS YOU THE RIGHTS CONTAINED HERE IN CONSIDERATION OF YOUR ACCEPTANCE OF SUCH TERMS AND CONDITIONS.
1. Definitions
a. "Collective Work" means a work, such as a periodical issue,
anthology or encyclopedia, in which the Work in its entirety in
unmodified form, along with a number of other contributions,
constituting separate and independent works in themselves, are
assembled into a collective whole. A work that constitutes a
Collective Work will not be considered a Derivative Work (as
defined below) for the purposes of this License.
b. "Derivative Work" means a work based upon the Work or upon
the Work and other pre-existing works, such as a translation,
musical arrangement, dramatization, fictionalization, motion picture
version, sound recording, art reproduction, abridgment, condensation,
or any other form in which the Work may be recast,
transformed, or adapted, except that a work that constitutes a
Collective Work will not be considered a Derivative Work for the
purpose of this License.
c. "Licensor" means the individual or entity that offers the
Work under the terms of this License.
d. "Original Author" means the individual or entity who created
the Work.
e. "Work" means the copyrightable work of authorship offered
under the terms of this License.
f. "You" means an individual or entity exercising rights under
this License who has not previously violated the terms of this
License with respect to the Work, or who has received express
permission from the Licensor to exercise rights under this
License despite a previous violation.
2. Fair Use Rights. Nothing in this license is intended to reduce, limit, or restrict any rights arising from fair use,
first sale or other limitations on the exclusive rights of the copyright owner under copyright law or other applicable
laws.
3. License Grant. Subject to the terms and conditions of this License, Licensor hereby grants You a worldwide,
royalty-free, non-exclusive, perpetual (for the duration of the applicable copyright) license to exercise the rights
in the Work as stated below:
a. to reproduce the Work, to incorporate the Work into one or
more Collective Works, and to reproduce the Work as incorporated
in the Collective Works;
b. to distribute copies or phonorecords of, display publicly,
perform publicly, and perform publicly by means of a digital
audio transmission the Work including as incorporated in
Collective Works;
The above rights may be exercised in all media and formats whether now known or hereafter devised. The above rights
include the right to make such modifications as are technically necessary to exercise the rights in other media and
formats. All rights not expressly granted by Licensor are hereby reserved.
4. Restrictions. The license granted in Section 3 above is expressly made subject to and limited by the following
restrictions:
a. You may distribute, publicly display, publicly perform, or
publicly digitally perform the Work only under the terms of this
License, and You must include a copy of, or the Uniform Resource
Identifier for, this License with every copy or phonorecord of
the Work You distribute, publicly display, publicly perform, or
publicly digitally perform. You may not offer or impose any
terms on the Work that alter or restrict the terms of this License or
the recipients' exercise of the rights granted hereunder. You may not
sublicense the Work. You must keep intact all notices that refer to
this License and to the disclaimer of warranties. You may not distribute,
publicly display, publicly perform, or publicly digitally
perform the Work with any technological measures that control access
or use of the Work in a manner inconsistent with the terms of this
License Agreement. The above applies to the Work as incorporated in a
Collective Work, but this does not require the Collective Work apart
from the Work itself to be made subject to the terms of this License.
If You create a Collective Work, upon notice from any Licensor
You must, to the extent practicable, remove from the Collective
Work any reference to such Licensor or the Original Author, as
requested.
b. You may not exercise any of the rights granted to You in
Section 3 above in any manner that is primarily intended for or
directed toward commercial advantage or private monetary
compensation. The exchange of the Work for other copyrighted
works by means of digital file-sharing or otherwise shall not be
considered to be intended for or directed toward commercial
advantage or private monetary compensation, provided there is no
payment of any monetary compensation in connection with the
exchange of copyrighted works.
c. If you distribute, publicly display, publicly perform, or
publicly digitally perform the Work or any Collective Works, You
must keep intact all copyright notices for the Work and give the
Original Author credit reasonable to the medium or means You are
utilizing by conveying the name (or pseudonym if applicable) of
the Original Author if supplied; the title of the Work if
supplied. Such credit may be implemented in any reasonable
manner; provided, however, that in the case of a Collective Work, at a
minimum such credit will appear where any other comparable authorship
credit appears and in a manner at least as prominent as such other
comparable authorship credit.
5. Representations, Warranties and Disclaimer
a. By offering the Work for public release under this License,
Licensor represents and warrants that, to the best of Licensor's
knowledge after reasonable inquiry:
i. Licensor has secured all rights in the Work necessary
to grant the license rights hereunder and to permit the
lawful exercise of the rights granted hereunder without
You having any obligation to pay any royalties,
compulsory license fees, residuals or any other
payments;
ii. The Work does not infringe the copyright, trademark,
publicity rights, common law rights or any other right
of any third party or constitute defamation, invasion of
privacy or other tortious injury to any third party.
b. EXCEPT AS EXPRESSLY STATED IN THIS LICENSE OR OTHERWISE AGREED IN
WRITING OR REQUIRED BY APPLICABLE LAW, THE WORK IS LICENSED ON AN "AS
IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EITHER EXPRESS OR IMPLIED
INCLUDING, WITHOUT LIMITATION, ANY WARRANTIES REGARDING THE CONTENTS
OR ACCURACY OF THE WORK.
6. Limitation on Liability. EXCEPT TO THE EXTENT REQUIRED BY APPLICABLE LAW, AND EXCEPT FOR DAMAGES ARISING FROM
LIABILITY TO A THIRD PARTY RESULTING FROM BREACH OF THE WARRANTIES IN SECTION 5, IN NO EVENT WILL LICENSOR BE LIABLE
TO YOU ON ANY LEGAL THEORY FOR ANY SPECIAL, INCIDENTAL, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR EXEMPLARY DAMAGES ARISING OUT OF
THIS LICENSE OR THE USE OF THE WORK, EVEN IF LICENSOR HAS BEEN ADVISED OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
7. Termination
a. This License and the rights granted hereunder will terminate
automatically upon any breach by You of the terms of this License.
Individuals or entities who have received Collective Works from You
under this License, however, will not have their licenses terminated
provided such individuals or entities remain in full compliance with
those licenses. Sections 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, and 8 will survive any
termination of this License.
b. Subject to the above terms and conditions, the license
granted here is perpetual (for the duration of the applicable
copyright in the Work). Notwithstanding the above, Licensor reserves
the right to release the Work under different license terms or to stop
distributing the Work at any time; provided, however that any such
election will not serve to withdraw this License (or any other license
that has been, or is required to be, granted under the terms of this
License), and this License will continue in full force and effect
unless terminated as stated above.
8. Miscellaneous
a. Each time You distribute or publicly digitally perform the
Work or a Collective Work, the Licensor offers to the recipient
a license to the Work on the same terms and conditions as the
license granted to You under this License.
b. If any provision of this License is invalid or unenforceable
under applicable law, it shall not affect the validity or
enforceability of the remainder of the terms of this License,
and without further action by the parties to this agreement,
such provision shall be reformed to the minimum extent necessary
to make such provision valid and enforceable.
c. No term or provision of this License shall be deemed waived
and no breach consented to unless such waiver or consent shall
be in writing and signed by the party to be charged with such
waiver or consent.
d. This License constitutes the entire agreement between the
parties with respect to the Work licensed here. There are no
understandings, agreements or representations with respect to
the Work not specified here. Licensor shall not be bound by any
additional provisions that may appear in any communication from
You. This License may not be modified without the mutual written
agreement of the Licensor and You.
for my parents,
John & Nancy
Robinson.
Hello
Hello.
See, that wasn't so hard, was it?
Sometimes it can really be that simple.
But now that we are talking,
we must move on to more important things
more important questions, like
How have you been? and
How's the family? and
Who are you anyway? i don't know you
from Adam, Eve, or the Serpent, and
Who let you in here? and just
Who the hell do you think i am anyway?
Well, now that we've gotten those out of the way,
and obviously i can't frighten you off with my
questions,
we must now truly speak.
Are you aware that inside all of us is a
conundrum, and lovingly folded inside it is an
enigma,
and enclosed in an envelope inside it is a
paradox,
and when you dial the right combination you get a
quandary.
And when you pry open the quandary, you get
nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Because all of this is a ruse
to keep your attention away
from the second shelf down from there
next to the broken telephone
and the bowl of rose leaves
where sits the shoebox.
Inside the shoebox you would find
reams upon reams of letters you will never write.
You do not not write them for reasons of fear
that transcend
the haunting memory which is the written word, or
the liability which is flesh made verse.
You do not write them for fear that if you write
them
you will wish to send them, and
if you
wish to send them
you will either realize that you have no one to
send them to
or perhaps worse, that
you do.
If you have been at this for long,
you do not bother to meet these people
who you would write these letters to.
You simply file the pages in no particular order
in the shoebox for the moment
that will probably never arrive,
the moment in which you might need to skim over
lines which do not and should not exist.
And you take comfort in it.
You
will simply buy a cat.
And then another when the first gets lonely.
You'll
believe it.
Still,
the gnawing question remains--
if the blank after Dear... were to bear
fruit
would it be succulent and sweet
or a wax facsimile?
In the case of this emergency,
if someone where to actually walk up and say
Hello.
you would know exactly how to act.
you would know exactly what to say.
you have the moment mapped out in your head
down to your last exhalation of breath.
Still,
when you're standing there on aisle ten
with poison in cart and bag of corn chips in hand
and he or she asks if you're married
you'll say no, but not ask for his or her number.
You see, the shoebox's lid is closed.
And there are rubber bands holding it so.
The Nature of the Beast
The tile floor is cold under your bare feet.
The cold of the sink sinks up through your palms.
You pull down the bottom of one eyelid.
You accuse your reflection, saying
THIS
NEVER HAPPENED
as the woman you murdered
shifts in her sleep in the next room, smiling.
Angrily, you think
at least one of us can smile
at least one of us can sleep.
You have seen it all before.
You have heard it all before.
You have been here before.
But still, the exit is no easier to find.
What
never happened?
All the lies we promise ourselves
All the moments we honestly meant to mean
All the things unspoken yet better off unthought
What
never happened?
The constant drip drip drip
drip of anticipation
filling up a bathtub with days and ways
filling it up with hopes and dreams
leaning back and pretending to relax
but still pondering the possibilities
of that appliance near your toe.
THIS
NEVER HAPPENED
You could return to the next room.
You could lie down beside her,
and in the morning when you awoke
ten thousand cold miles of mattress
would separate your spent corpses.
Any emissaries sent to bridge this gulf
would lie bleaching in the mid-morning sun.
Then, bound by the schism which is clarity
there would be words, but their casings
would rattle noiselessly on the ground.
As was stated, you have been here before.
You know the terrain.
Or perhaps it will all pass away
in a few hours.
You can speak of it as the Grand Mistake,
and yes, perhaps even laugh about it.
Go back
Go back to the night before
to that moment before you appeared on her
doorstep
half out of your mind with a half-formed thought
in your head
and say
THIS
NEVER HAPPENED
You can think no more of it now.
You climb into bed and she shifts towards you.
Her head slips under
your chin.
You put one hand on her shoulder as if to push
her away.
You want no part of this for
THIS
NEVER HAPPENED...
but her breathing is so contentedly even
and as you close your eyes you think,
Damn...
if
only she weren't so warm.
12:03 am
Eyes unclose themselves
in the moments wet and mundane
after the passing of the previous day.
Silent stars wear black armbands
and peer down through solemnity
at your formerly sleeping form.
Once again,
you dreamed that you were having this
dream.
A
goddess had poured honey upon your lips
as
you dozed in an unspoiled garden,
free
of human longings, free of inhuman duplicity, and
wormwood.
You
opened your eyes,
but
before she could explain the vase and the rose,
before you could even cross the room,
before you could pose the question,
before she could compose the answer,
another
day slipped through the splintered hourglass, and
you awoke
with regret in your soul
and
sweetness on your lips.
Postcards From Galapagos
1.
Dream a little dream of suffocation.
Glance
in the direction of the indifferent snore
and
pray for a skipped beat.
It's
no longer amusing how he can use a sundial
to tell time
on overcast days.
The
ghosts of pleasantries eye us warily.
The
shelf is littered with their icons:
photographic proof of hollow smiles
behind, the tide repeating and eating at
the shore
and
sea shells which you won't hear the sea in anymore.
This
is not a life of quiet desperation,
it's
just that no one is listening.
2.
Here
is everything you ever wanted.
Here,
right here,
right there in front of you.
It
took years to stumble over it,
crouched
at your feet as it were,
but
you are forced to acknowledge it now.
They
fed you the desire and the dream,
but
instructed you no further.
Big as
life and
twice
as devastating,
it
waits for a response.
Close
your mouth.
We're
staring.
3.
Reason
cries out in the wilderness
and no
man pays it heed
Except--
for the Department of Transportation
Officials
in their Hardhats, who start putting down
Stakes.
Evolution
seeks footholds in the air like a capsized beetle
while
Charles spins and laughs
and spins
and
laughs
No one wants to grow fur anymore.
And When You Returned Home
You
brought the grocery bags in.
You sat them
down in the kitchen.
You said
they had distance on special,
so you picked up some extra.
You
said, hurry and help me,
we need to keep it cold
so it won't spoil.
i could
not move slowly enough.
Orpheus and Eurydice:
a love story
Son of Oneiros and Calliope he was,
grandson of Zeus the father,
and he was mine, almost completely,
as i was his, more than completely.
He sang of his love for me with
such passion, such incredible passion
that nature would still itself
and give breathless notice,
not allowing even the wind
to interfere with his song,
so that the trees themselves would need to bend
of their own accord to give an attentive ear.
He sang of his love for me with
such passion, such incredible passion
that the gods of Olympus
would give
pause from their petty rivalries
and seductions of mortals to be seduced
themselves
by my lover's song.
He sang of his love for me with
such passion, such incredible, empty passion
that it would make me sick to hear.
i fear the annals of history will show me
as nothing more than a name,
but since we are in Hell here together,
and none has ever returned alive from this depth,
i will tell you truthfully:
That even though in life i was woman,
i had a song of my own.
But compared to the brightness of my dearest one
what was my cheap inspiration?
A drop in an ocean,
a one among many--
still it was mine, but overshadowed by one
i had bound my life to.
And just as his song had easily managed
to make mine as notes unuttered,
so too did his love for art
make his love for me,
and moreover,
my love for him
into nothing more than a title
for one of his compositions.
Lovely though they were, and
loved for they were about me,
they seemed more against me
or perhaps more through me,
but never about myself.
Never about myself.
So you see, when my life ended abrupt,
i, at first, wept openly, tears falling silently
among the red rock of this place.
All of my comfort and familiar was gone--
gone with him, gone with his song.
But my lyre had fallen with me,
so i began to sing my lament
and demanded the deaf stone open itself to me.
The damned listened despite their suffering
and my song finally found purchase
in the darkness of this place,
this place where his melodies could not reach.
Better to have the ear of one disembodied soul
than all the inattentive living things of the
world.
So, content i was,
content i was to dream
that Lord Hades himself might
possibly hear my despair and give pause.
Content to dream i was.
But the crass fool would not leave well enough alone.
At first, i was happy--
happy for him,
happy that he
felt so in love with me
remembered me for a moment
that instead of his song
he had given my soul chase,
taken the time to descend
and win my hand again
by robbing Lord Hades of a single tear.
i was to return with him,
return to him,
return to the world above
and i was happy.
But i had the realization, one step from life:
That things would no doubt return to as they had
been,
that the song of this man
would coax the affection of men, women,
children, animals, winds and gods--
and then what of the song of poor Eurydice?
Be dumb, child, we have come for the song of
Orpheus.
But it was too late,
my hesitation upon the stair
had made him untrusting turn.
Then the damage was done,
for with the loss of Lord Hades' tear
we were torn from each other forever,
as i was torn from the ear of the monarch for
eternity.
My lover's song had invaded even my private
corner of Hell,
and the damned were even more the damned
for being denied the words of Orpheus.
Now and again,
i would catch a drift of the dirge,
his lament for my loss,
and could feel nature bending itself
to his sorrow.
So i must ask:
Was it all for me, love?
Or was it all for your song?
Did you go through the suffering
only to rape more inspiration
from your harlot muse?
How many epics did you wring
from my untimely demise?
But this is Hell, after all,
and they will not take my lyre from me.
i have tried to lose it many a time,
only to find it there in my hand once again.
i am a woman with a song to sing,
and not even the damned will listen.
For it seems no one will pay heed
to the notes and words of woman,
no, neither in Heaven, nor in Hell,
nor anywhere in between.
When i heard they had finally
rend you into pieces,
i felt no loss at all
but neither did i feel freedom.
This world has already been tainted with your
art,
leaving no room for mine.
So despite my love for you,
nay, because of my love for you,
i wished a handful of your flesh for my own.
i am sure that when your crown
drifted downstream
and was swept into the sea,
you were still singing,
Damn you.
Another Poem About Your Eyes
The
thing I hate most about being a poet.
I'd like
a poem about my eyes, you know,
For
once. Just for a change of pace.
No one's
ever written a poem about my eyes.
I
constantly draw inspiration from what I see
In the
eyes of others: the light, the spark in them.
There's
no spark in mine that I can find.
I can't
start kindling with it.
I can't
even find my way to bed with it.
Instead,
I keep tripping over your shoes.
Never and Always
Five and a half feet and still going down.
Sweat ripe for the picking from my brow.
Dirt under my fingernails, reminding me I'm
alive.
Frenetic with hesitant expectation.
Waiting for the sound of metal striking
wood.
Breathing hard, not as young as i used to
be.
You're out.
I've seen you.
Haunting me again.
Reading the ingredients off the backs of
mirrors.
Sculpting clouds out of dragons
and wishing all the seeds away.
Six feet.
Anytime now.
A nod to worms, trundling black things.
They will excite joy in my unmoistened
throat,
will bring life again from the dust, my
life,
and i can crawl from this hole reborn in
exchange for musky death,
relose filthy gills and inhale the moon.
Six and half feet and standards break down
on the subatomic
level.
There is nothing here.
Nothing here but dirt and more dirt and
myself, more dirt.
Where are you?
Seven paces from the tree at the fork,
these two words interred before,
this undergrowth a spearcarrier in all my
forgotten dreams.
Where are you?
Sharing
There's ink on my fingers--
enough to incriminate myself,
enough to mark you for life,
the scar, a letter, a circle,
fading and growing in the sedentary light.
Mine still itches when it's cold.
It's like a divine blessing.
Believe me.
You want to pass it on.
untitled
i
would weave you an untruth
if i spun for example that
i have this feeling.
Instead, this feeling has me.
i speak so and so
the precipice yawns and
feigns indifference
but will receive me once again.
It calls me by my secret names
and bids me fall.
The tumbling descent is familiar
but this time i have time
to count the trees as i go.
It is a delicious avalanche indeed
the tide of white washing clean the mountainside
erasing the slopes below
but never gaining speed.