I Wanted to Tell You by Amanda Deutch

After JKD's Apparition, Sean S's Fragment 2, Lisa Pasold's On a Morning Like This Morning and a little Marguerite Duras thrown in for good measure and spice.


I Wanted to Tell You


On a Thursday
morning,
I feel the uncertainty

of phrases.
empty bottles, the sea,
an expression

I've
never seen
on anyone

but you. I
am not a blank
reproduction

of myself,
am I?
At a certain

hour, do we become
masks
of ourselves?

The voice is
mine and it
isn't.

Wary
Tender
Undressed,

our motions
implicate
the shape of the cosmos.

A morning like this one
becomes afternoon
and lasts well

into the evening,
emerges from bones
as it has been wanting to

for weeks. Words
wipe things out
replace them,

so that you can
continue
to do so.

‘So’ meaning
be
being.

I am
busy
being.

You had written
'red.'
Sometimes,

a color speaks
more
than any words.

This is driven by
chance, the harbor
and used paths.

There are many
trees speaking colors
we can't.

Hydrate
in advance?
There is little

we can do
to prepare in
advance.

Because of the
wind,
perhaps.

Let go of the past,
stand, out on street corners
simply watching faces, movements—

That’s as good as
any
preparation,

isn’t it?
My dreams
are of

kayaks that
leave me
behind.

My waking
is of noise
and clouds.

The illusion of
place,
where I am.

I've never been
able
to believe

any of this;
I don’t believe in place
or Tuesday.

And this has kept
me awake
for many years

drawing pictures
in the
night.

I'm almost aloof
about it.
Might as well be

amazed
by the colors
of illusion.


—May 15, 2009
Clinton Hill, Brooklyn