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April 30, 2009

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Could you identify the others in the picture? And whose book are you holding? Everyone looks so hot!

Amy Lawless's brothel name is Ursula Giovanna de Gassion. Here's a little bit about her, from her bio: Ursula Giovanna de Gassion, a pale, devastated whore, was born in Paris, was orphaned at an early age. She grew up on the streets and as soon as she reached her teen years, she became a heartbreaker. Every one of Ursula's lovers has committed suicide. This sounds unlikely but it's true. Ursula has a penchant for looking off in the distance and sighing a lot. She would never approach you with verses. Lately, she's been afraid of getting close to anyone because she fears that being her lover might be the last thing you'll ever do.
Ms. Gassion is terribly addicted to absinthe and has only become more of a mess since joining the poetry brothel.
You'll think she's too reliable or straight for this business but will then disappear hungover from too much sauce for three maybe four days. When she returns to the Madame, she is hungrier than the others. Ursula hates to be alone. The clients like her sadness because they think that maybe they can tear her out of this place. But the truth is, this is her home. Ursula loves magic. This nihilistic girl can usually found near her Ouija board…or the bar.


I'm taking a week long trip in a couple of days and I would love to experience as much as the city as possible. I'm interested in shows, comedy clubs, plays, poetry readings, etc. Anything you can tell me with as much detail as possible is very much appreciated.


To My Teacher


A red brick school
stands quietly on the hill

and I am reminded of my teacher

that kind, gentle man
who stood me in the corner
and walloped me with a stick
for writing verse during algebra

"a no account weasel,"
you would scream

long time, no see



Almond Girl

dark almond eyes
peer lifeless as shells
or partitions spread for sleep

and sometimes there is an intrigue
within those settings,
something like suspicion
that is not dramatic

but glazed skin
like a honey
that is warm in winter

The Tutor

it's a quiet day
we spend in the april sun

I see there is much
for you to know

watching you daydream wondering

if the blue sky
isn't better for you
than Keats or Byron

in the silence of a study
musing immortality


Bamboo

a white moon
stalks the deer

I prey
through a winter forest

the light streams
through bamboo that is too long

After The Wedding


yesterday

I found a picture
of the two of you
standing next to your car
after the wedding

so young
and certain
and full of promise

did you suspect
that he would leave us
in the city?

the haze
the ash
the tentative smile


Sea Beans

the morning sun
casts a shadow
over the silent hut

of the beachcomber

dreams of lions
and sea beans


Subtle Rhyme

the clouds that shroud
a solitary moon
are my confusion

crimson skies above the bay,
I fear,
are my demise

stars that light
are called nothing more than light,

glisten the waters
that end a subtle rhyme

Hollow Watcher


december nights chill
the fencepost

hangs
a hollow watcher

stirs my breath,
a white eye


Projector 1921

black box clacking
gears and sprockets

that rattle

that move too fast

(scratched film)

Watts

drunken gunshots echoed near the church,
there was no moon to drive us mad

walking past rows of houses,
peeling paint and broken streetlamps

smooth stones
thrown in anger cracked blue windows,

stained glass images scattered on the floor



Night Vision

After our story

I watch a young girl,
with my eyes,
dream of silver horses

wind chimes tinkling
or turning slowly

a mirrored carousel

Literature

I practice praying while he snores in my ear.

His sighs are my cheat code. God must have

a soft spot for me. I'm not dead yet. I perfect

my amen to close out future prayers. I nudge

him to roll on his side & soften his breathing.

He reaches out to hold me without opening

an eye. Thank you God, amen, I whisper. How

can I claim God doesn't listen to sinners?

How else could I get such a blessing?


-Raych Jackson

Silent Kitchen

moonlight and an autumn wind
unfurl the curtain lace

in a silent kitchen
the cat creeps slowly along the shelf

a single candle wavers
shadow through the crystal,

soundless figures dancing on the wall

As You Leave Me

Shiny record albums scattered over
the living room floor, reflecting light
from the lamp, sharp reflections that hurt
my eyes as I watch you, squatting among the platters,
the beer foam making mustaches on your lips.

-Etheridge Knight


A Girl

with big breasts
under a blue sweater
crosses the street

reading a newspaper-
stops, turns,
and looks down

like she had seen
a dime on the pavement

-William Carlos Williams


Empty Classrooms

empty classrooms
preserved like tombs,
dust collected on the desks

that time is my demise,
I know,

but even so

(I am having a great time hanging out with my heroes.)


Of Robert Frost

There is a little lightning in his eyes.
Iron in the mouth.
His brows ride neither too far up nor down.

He is splendid. With a place to stand.

Some glowing in the common blood.
Some specialness within.

-Gwen Brooks


"We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business;
we are each other's magnitude and bond."


Wings

shoulder blades
sticking out as if they
wanted to grow wings through
that skin.

little blades, she was helpless.

-Charles Bukowski

"We don't even ask happiness, just a little less pain."

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

-Carl Sandburg

"The secret of happiness is to admire without desiring."



Open Windows

We would be together
and have our books

and at night
be warm together

with the windows open

and the stars bright.

-Ernest Hemingway


"All you have to write is one true sentence."

August

When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns,
I spend

all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.

-Mary Oliver

"Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world."


I'm Nobody

I'm nobody. Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?

Then, there's a pair of us.
Don't tell, they'd advertise, you know

How dreary to be someone,
How public, like a frog.

To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog.

-Emily Dickinson

(Thanks to William Luce and Ginger Grace for 'The Belle of Amherst')

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Cover
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That Ship Has Sailed
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"Lively and affectionate" Publishers Weekly

Radio

I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark


from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman

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