Archives for posts with tag: from Kinetic | 2007 | Shearsman Books

We made love. I felt at once tender and affectless.
We sighed and were no one, for a little while at least.

They were helicoptering people up off the embassy roof.
Reizan, reizan, reizan… The whir of the rotors,
the whump and cackle of the blades as they went airborne,
the passing quietness of the sky once they had gone…

I know, I said I would love you forever.
I wasn’t lying. I meant it at the time. I just didn’t realise

forever doesn’t last that long.


Nick used tungsten film the colours glowed in the darkened room
Such light as there was was full and lush
as if it was going out of style
and the greens seemed to bleed and wash over themselves
while Nick snapped away we talked
listened to the Czars and sometimes we were quiet
I thought of you
a fir forest at the bottom of the ocean, trees
frozen with the birdsong still in them.

Later the clouds brought snow,
and I thought of the cold air blown in a wind from Siberia.

Yes, they were graves, so what?

And I thought it was a long way into my heart
but when you came to leave
I found it was just a short walk, after all.

You disposed of me quickly, efficiently, one neat phonecall.
That’s cool. I guess you had your reasons.

Did you know, Yesenin wrote his last poem in his own blood?

That’s not my style. I’m more Zen, more detached.

I’ll never write a last poem.