about 12 Domestic Poems

These poems, for the most part, came from the mounds of automatic writing that accumulate in my notebooks. At the time they were written, I was living in Providence where I was attending one of those MFA programs, living on the East side, walking to school and back to my small Portuguese apartment that I shared with Adam Tobin, a poet and fellow participant in the program. After I left Providence, I spent some time back in Wisconsin and painted houses. As a result (of painting) I spent a lot of time in empty rooms, and during that time I began cutting these little chunks out of my notebook. My guide was a desire to end them when they were just about to begin.

from 12 Domestic Poems

Window

Because everything is right here an ending is right here. I snap my

fingers and listen to the aftershock. I pick my head up to hear the sounds

of traffic. I don’t mean to be obvious but I stop for a second to think, and

air goes out the window. And I hear somebody driving by. There was an

idea to work through, to not stop until something happens.

Ashtray

Junkies fill with light, even if this light is bought. Even if we’re still

talking about inheritance, these sums do not account for the light around

my lips as I write this my focus disappears. A bell rings twice.

Phone Call

Memory is time. Going into your head is the physical manifestation of

time passing. To be out of time is to concentrate on the closest thing

available, the front of your head for example. Your attention is out of

time. Attention does not move.

Table

We got sick of sticking the brisket into grandma’s mouth and decided to

go for a walk. To the beach where they were pulling out “blues” by the

dozen and throwing them into tubbaware. It was casual and the old man

asked us if we wanted a fish. Instead we ate corn no mention of the light

house, the ice cream was good.

Kitchen

This is not the real story. We called cigarette smoke. And I drank last

night. And I hear somebody driving Friday. We talked about school

driving by. Walking hot and exploding woman went back outside, but it

is Adam, air goes out the window.

Desk

Walking I get wet but from the desk there is more than one afternoon. Sit

and observe. Try a trying. What is happening when you are late in a

chair? If you want, write more. Mind names, your hair, the expression on

the bed. It’s hard.

Photograph

Maybe the elephants are not really sleeping. Maybe the movie was too

long, too slow. Maybe we’ll talk longer, bend our elbows and our necks.

First the wrist and then the hand. Start with the closest thing and push

forward. If it floats away, don’t worry we’ll find it eventually. An easel.

A picture of a couple.

Mirror

We may construct different ideas of youthfulness; we may construct a

village we never grew up in, or grew apart from. I look forward to the

end of conception, where all is put back into use. Yards full of houses,

one thing into another. I shaved my head last night. Every night.

Phone Call

Memory is time. Going into your head is the physical manifestation of

time passing. To be out of time is to concentrate on the closest thing

available, the front of your head for example. Your attention is out of

time. Attention does not move.

Stove as Bedside Table

Right now, an iron box supports a lamp, a clock, a bowl half-full of

change, a flashlight, some pictures, and a few papers. The lamp is on

and the box is black. There is nothing burning, nor are there any plans to

burn. Clearly this box is not human though it can be moved. It suffers

from deep humility. It is full of ash.

Magazine

What is keeping us from inventing a new magazine? Not weather or

history but something to read in the kitchen or on a couch waiting for

guests. If you feel stressed call somebody. Don’t drink too much and

always be careful.

Calendar

Across the street sits a house decorated with holiday lights. In the room

sits a bed and one chair. The streets maintain dignity while the bathroom

creates a mist for the other fixtures (toasters, night stands) to enjoy.

“We’re thinking about splitting up.”