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Aug 312012
 

by Jenny Morse

 

Grafting is a precarious art that requires patience and steady hands. An interest in severing is a plus as is tenderness for sap and broken things.

One must always be in favor of the clippings.

 

But if she had hurt herself,

it wouldn’t have been funny.

 

I would sit comfortably

in that chair

beside the window

which is absent.

 

What is it you want from the world?

truth, beauty, freedom, love

Yes, the whole Moulin

Rouge.

 

Reseal the handbags.

Everyone wants to reach in

to the beginning.

 

Inappropriate memos of meaning.

You are all the words I have

left to say.

 

I am threading these bell

peppers—red yellow green—purple

onions, mushrooms onto

a skewer

but I don’t like peppers

and nothing pleases me

except the colors.

 

If anything, a house

on the beach

and a piano.

 

“If you were a doctor,” my mother says,

“if you were a doctor, at least

you’d be sure to get

a job”

and if I were a banana

you might have eaten me.

Besides I am a doctor.

 

“a real one.”

 

Here it is. I’m drunk and they

don’t like me, though they’re drunks, too.

 

Having no        is better than

having (a) bad              . Although

some people think having some

is certainly better than having none.

 

If you wrote one tenth

of what you thought to write,

would it be enough

for you to have written it?

 

I am Jack’s enormous diaphragm.

 

Black culture as

performance art

for suburbanites.

 

We followed the path the

sun pushed before us

warmly

the day I said

she’d make an excellent pigeon.

 

How does your hairdresser cut your hair?

With rabid shears.

 

I don’t want to date

you either, fucker.

 

Sex is like an organ

played and tuned and forgotten

when the lover dies.

 

I was never pared.

Paired.

Peared.

 

One of your disks needs to

be checked for consistency.

 

Someday I, too, will be

this man spilling whiskey

on pretty girls.

 

The table is only for N(O, 1).

The table shows only positive values.

 

Since the beginning we

were enemies, but we thought

of each other as accomplices.

 

You’re always taking her side.

Take a side and stand on it.

Even if we’re talking about a dodecahedron,

the sides are just smaller, but

they’re still supposed to be equal.

 

I want to write books with thick spines.

I want readers to turn pages and pages

of my words.

 

Bring back all the socks,

bras, and tennis shoes.

 

How do you reach a white

haired age without learning?

 

I am accustomed

to the sharp squeak of your bed frame.

Brush your teeth lightly.

The dentist called with concerns

for your mouth.

 

I hate periods.

Punctuation. Bleeding. Time.

 

Each one has their own book.

It is raining; I am going home.