I am in a dangerous mood right now.
All I want to do is kiss monsters
American or otherwise,
to walk in any weather singing
underbreath about love and wind.
There is a sound of Tuesday
pulled from your hair.
So easily, I fall in love
with years.
Earth, grown
and dying,
I call your name
from Brooklyn
then take the 4 train
to 16th street.
I will come back,
but for how long?
Everything is on fire.
What voices, thighs, avenues
will be left in time?
Tuesday poem #577 : Henry Gould : AUTUMN LEAVES
15 hours ago
1 comment:
WOW! This is great, Amanda. I could stop writing now.... but instead I think I will try and reword more, to get myself up to the challenge of language as exciting as this is. I like how harsh the juxtapositions feel. You in NYC? Feels so like the city of it, the heat and hardness of angles and people in urban space. Fab!!!!!
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