Nov 21, 2008

Upon Hearing Liakos Read As We Drank in Different Cities




If you don't keep that one
I will throw something at you.

It will be heavy,
and possibly wet.

It will be, most definitely,
something close and large.

It will be an object symbolizing
my obstructive frustration.

It will pass by your head
grazing your cheek-skin.

It will remember you to
the sharks of your past.

It will recall conquerable people
that made the both of us.

It will punish you to leave a
contrail or convex or context.

I do not know much about it
except it will smash on the floor.

It will smash and it will leave a mark
on the ground where I didn't want it to.

I didn't want it, I never ever did
and it will crash, waking roommates.

You will look and we will laugh
but you gotta keep that one.

You've got to, got to-- because
there is only one envelope left.

It will shatter next to the only envelope
left in the entire universe and forever.

1 comment:

redrawblak said...

http://nymag.com/arts/books/reviews/52430/