want to live there. I’m sick
of cities, of coasts, of oceans
relentlessly nagging the beach. I want the meat
and potatoes of you, want the obvious
choice for big spoon to be you, want to
give up my cocksure swagger and swoon
over yours instead. I want
the senior prom and the picket-fenced
lawn and the American flag
on the back of your truck, want to fuck
like the other half does—want to god-bless
your foreign body, the whole long slim
length of you, the endless
prairie of your chest, the rough
plain of your cheek, your terraced
ribs, the muscled goldrush
thrust of you. Yes: I want the simple
plus-minus of us, the luxurious,
brainless, obvious-us, want to touch
you in public and relish
how nobody stares. Don’t tell me
your fears. Let’s just swap our worst
pick up lines. If I wanted love
I’d go back to Brooklyn, to the woman whose body
is so much like mine. But I want this whole
wild country, idiotically brave, catastrophically
free, and you, cowboy, to come home, home
on the range with me."
I have a show in Paris on October 22nd!
Send me your email?
I don’t know if I’ll want to publish it but I’ll at least write it for you.
Aaaah, I forgot that’s what made all great artists great. Not working hard and just wingin’ it.
Lately it’s a lot of note-taking and drafts. I usually talk to my friends about my ideas and ask for their feedback, and sometimes I post questions to social media asking for help from followers for research. It’s definitely a process, I’m not someone who can get a poem finished in twenty minutes.
Definitely. I write a lot of poems I never publish, and there are poems I feel vulnerable posting.
I think a large part of the reason I write is I have a very hard time articulating my thoughts and feelings to other people in conversation. Writing gives me a chance sit with my experiences and express them when I’m ready. It’s a vulnerable thing to share them, but maybe a necessary kind of vulnerable.