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Nico Alvarado-Greenwood
Moons paleblue sky kleenex moon 1.2 m o o n @ n o o n 2 puddled moon a perfect copy2.2 until my sneaker snaps 3 I never can quite just his August 28, 2006 This afternoon is small soft hands on someone else's throat. I'm not afraid of dying is less a lie than I'm not afraid of everyone else doing it. And they are. Or he is, a guy I hardly knew when it comes down to it. Grown fat from chemo ha ha but he did, and when he visited we went to the Japanese gardens and Eric ran around pretty good for a dying (he was supposed to be in remission) newly fat guy. Pretty good when it comes down to it. And it keeps coming down. Two Poems About Poetry I. the poem happens on the page the way a child on a crowded beach at night losing, this is a true story, losing his family and with so many fires shining on the sand doesn't know where to go and crying walks utterly without until a group of bodies feels right from afar he runs to them desperate and wrong they want to help but cannot no one can he leaves he keeps on and about to give up comes up on their faces sudden in the light the fire's torn in to the dark II. That we can only write the poems we can write is tautological but true. But I don't want to! I want to write the poems I can't write. about Nico Alvarado-Greenwood |
