keith & rosmarie waldrop

after keith waldrop:

The pain. In a twisted

neck. Even the slave of

a warm burning takes

time. It is warm tingle.

You don’t look thirty-four.

I need to look in your

mouth. Where does the truth

lie? Healthy, you are, cough

don't worry i won't hurt

you. Sometimes it can be

small and close.

There is some redness.

I can see it. Oh, yeah.

The miniature Christmas

tree next to a tropical parrot.

Go, play for a while as the buzz

drills or the drill buzzes I'm not

quite sure which anymore.

There is a mask and I

can only see your dark eyes.

Perhaps these lives are too short I am

thinking of how text translates into type.

One older brother - is he in the archives?

Cuaderno, the last name sounds

familiar. You are so small as you play

beside me and the pieces interlock between

your chubby child fingers.

She remembers him, ten years ago

he sat in this chair and kicked and

screamed. She remembers.

after rosmarie waldrop:

1. to explore the nature of rain

To explore the nature of rain behind dark eyelids I see the flash flood and the drops of wetness, rub them between my fingers. All of a sudden the sun abandoned the earth. We were heavily drenched in sky's outpourings. Lately the sky brought crystal flakes forth which landed upon the glass and for the first time I found out what a snowflake was and it does not look like paper cutouts of childhood. All things decompose, melt, wither. No matter how beautiful. In fact, beauty is even more fleeting than ugliness. Its decay, even more atrocious and devastating in wonder. The streets are on fire with shimmer as I walk home and I wonder why all things must die.

2. the body is useful.

The body is useful. When I return to golden lands it soaks the sun and when I am in grey ones it whimpers and begs for mercy and I know I am not home. I am drinking a bottle of orange juice above the ocean and envisioning you between me. Shameful sin biological but I can't help it. There is so much noise. To be loud does not mean truth. I tried to hold the pointilles of sun between our interlaced fingers. Instead I dug my teeth into your soft pink flesh. Love, but what is? My heart once burst at the seams but now it quivers and sits timidly afraid. I look for differences in the redness of cheeks and make my judgments from there.