Thursday, August 24, 2006

thee martha silano poem

Martha Silano is a friend who happens to be a lights-out poet. Her newest book, Blue Positive, is just out. This piece is from that work.

My Man With His Fly Reel Eyes
After Andre Breton

My man with his fly reel eyes
Pale morning dun desire

My man's hip-wader heat
Gravel-in-the-shallows drive

My man with his Yakima Canyon shoulders
Sagebrush brow

My man's fingerling tongue
Biceps smooth as skipping stones

My man with his sockeye sperm
Trunk of ponderosa

My man's teeth the snow-fresh tracks
of cougar—cougar scream & cougar silence

My man's Frenchmen Coulee hands
My man the hawk with a snake in its mouth

My man the trout growing larger
My man skunked—his cattail want

My man the 40-mile-an-hour gust
a tarp set free from rocks


Anonymous Snap said...

FYI... formatting gets funky when the window is made smaller. May want to use frames on it or something.

4:21 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That's would be finspot I suppose

4:57 PM  
Anonymous Snap said...

Since I just made technical talk in my last comment, allow me to comment on the (now fixed) pome.

Due to the subject of the matter, this piece reminds me of several exact moments in my life. I readily admit to my bias in this case, but it still cannot in any way discount the feelings that these memories elicited in me. Mysterious. Clever. Wonderful. Left wondering. Wandering.

11:51 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

what is this, 1998?

12:20 AM  
Anonymous Colin Rich said...

Okay, I'll fuck finspot, if she'll let me.

1:03 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

jeebus, you call that poetree? i guess you had to be there.

12:46 PM  

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