Sunday, November 28, 2004

Not the Wizard

but I am off to see my brother today. I haven't been to this particular place before, so I'm anxious. I'll try to post tonight.


Anonymous said...

All's quiet on the crush front, eh?

Are you there, Paul? It's me...(this is where I'm supposed to blurt out my name).

She Refers to Herself in the Third Person

She’s tall and exceedingly thin—
okay, not exceedingly—-still, you could, if so inclined
climb her ribs, hip
bones and clavicles prominent enough which to cling.
Her skin is exceedingly pale--albaster
the romantic term—
in her youth she was nicknamed Casper
although she was much too shy
to be considered friendly.
Her eyes, de rigueur, are blue, neither sky nor sea,
yet as changeable if not turbulent.
Her hair’s a mess of blonde curls—
the name on the box proclaims the shade champagne
cocktail but it lifts instead to the faintest
strawberry. Already you’ve conjured
this woman in your head more real-ly
than she can ever be, or will;
therein lies the beauty of this word game.
To you, she’s Emily haunting her house,
writing these poems, letters to you, to the world
at large kept in a box beneath her bed.
She’s gotten too good at keeping secrets, at hiding
behind the panes. She prefers this metaphor
instead: a ladder propped against an unpainted
wall waiting to be scaled, patient
for the missed rung, the inevitable (she hopes
against hope) fall.

Charles said...

Unrelated, but I saw this and thought of your Godzilla poems: :)