Loss gets older and befriends its childless parents without knowing which of them placed a glass of toy water beside mirror’s bed for the you in all those video games where I stopped moving
Darkness never gets to every creature. I like that it tries. A cigarette taking sad thoughts from a ghost made of breathing. The ant-same memories of a toddler.
God doesn’t change, and knows it.
The deathplace. Our losskiss. The inventors of déjà vu dropping everything for touch. Touch with its borrowed memory and urgent past. No one mistaking noon for none.
The interior life enters heaven here or there in a bitemark. No splinter leaves a painted church. Distance is one meal. Longing, a puzzle.
We weren’t alive long enough to stop pretending we’d lived. If you don’t have something in your hand, don’t get a dog. I open my mouth but am still saying star.
Grief cuts itself from the movie it wants to make about wind. I design, sometimes, hats in a dream. I don’t mean every word. I thought loneliness would be taller, that’s all. Not this god who knows we exist.
It was sick for three minutes and lived for eight. I haven’t seen a picture in so long that I’m not sure you’d know me unless I was there. The dream is using us to remember god.
Toxicon And Arachne
poems, Joyelle McSweeney
Nightboat Books, 2020
Of course, being a weak writer, I want to say rare. I want to say rare in as few words as possible in the direction of Joyelle McSweeney’s Toxicon And Arachne. Somewhere two toothaches are perhaps reunited. Somewhere one is unpinned from the world while feeling in the dark for a donkey born without a tail. I also want to say playful, but no. Sadness loses all its money to sorrow and there is a jovial genius to the trauma of wordplay. I think what McSweeney does is done with what I’ll call, in my lack, the endangered available. Mouth of a gift hearse. Erasure’s only prediction. From such given, McSweeney recreates addendum without precedent. Think of what one hasn’t read, that is being written, and how briefly it will exist unwitnessed. And how fast the work of de-witness…
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