Anna begins

My friend assures me, "It's all or nothing." I am not worried I am not overly concerned My friend implores me, "For one time only, Make an exception." I am not worried Wrap her up in a package of lies Send her off to a coconut island I am not worried I am not overly concerned with the status of my emotions "Oh," she says, "you're changing." But we're always changing
It does not bother me to say this isn't love Because if you don't want to talk about it then it isn't love And I guess I'm going to have to live with that But I'm sure there's something in a shade of grey Or something in between And I can always change my name If that's what you mean
My friend assures me, "It's all or nothing." But I am not really worried I am not overly concerned You try to tell yourself the things you try to tell yourself To make yourself forget I am not worried "If it's love," she said, "then we're going to have to think about the consequences." She can't stop shaking I can't stop touching her and...
This time when kindness falls like rain It washes her away and Anna begins to change her mind "These seconds when I'm shaking leave me shuddering for days," she says And I'm not ready for this sort of thing
But I'm not going to break And I'm not going to worry about it anymore I'm not going to bend and I'm not going to break And I'm not going to worry about it anymore No no no no no, It seems like I should say, "As long as this is love..." But it's not all that easy so maybe I should Snap her up in a butterfly net Pin her down on a photograph album I am not worried I've done this sort of thing before But then I start to think about the consequences Because I don't get no sleep in a quiet room and...
This time when kindness falls like rain It washes me away and Anna begins to change my mind And everytime she sneezes I believe it's love and Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing She's talking in her sleep It's keeping me awake and Anna begins to toss and turn And every word is nonsense but I understand and Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing Her kindness bangs a gong It's moving me along and Anna begins to fade away It's chasing me away She disappears and Oh Lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing

voice

not omitting, one hopes,
words in rhythmic patterns
capturing the character's voice


Evening quickie: Voice on the Tree of Life (RWx-shortish)

while

as long as

and in short

I was afraid.

culture given

madonna and cyndi lauper

michael jackson and boy george

playing with whitney in my backyard

if I'd stayed put, would the world have continued to be given to me?

last nite on vh1, 'Behind the Music'-1984. --"I remember when the question was, were you a madonna girl or a cyndi lauper girl?"--
for me it was 1985 emblazoned in very bright pink on a pink sleeveless t-shirt that I bought large so it would fit into adulthood...
and what else? Kavafy no not Cavafy his name K__? was simply bad, and there was a rhyming song about how. sung with cate hartley, this scene set
in my basement: a matress and a trapeze. an atari, shooting spaceships.
a boom box, taping parts of Kasey Kasum's countdown: Sha-ka-kan. and: oh Rock me Amadeus.
this must be a shared culture, something that mates me with 'my generation' - but is it still mine?

I was aware of Bruce Springsteen, but really for me he came later, with Nebraska, with mc.
seeing him last nite, I like him very much. I now not then.

under the sun

nothing new.

rainstorm: life comes back.
just like that.

lie down together

my heart is pumping blood. my lungs are breathing. my stomach is digesting food.
let me lay my arm across your torso
where such things
are happening in you
as you
let me live with you
your limbs and mine.

what destiny, love

little idyll
were there lambsof courseno capital for milesthe hedgerows hardlyhedged as we our sheep tended
romance
how could it not bethe fabulous conjunctionand & and & not &what destiny, lovewhat a hard time we had of itbut golden days fall outof silken purses, private

Jacket 13 - Maureen McLane - Two poems (first - Minor Literature)
This is Jacket 13 - April 2001 # 13 Contents Homepage

the back of your hand

like you know it, you know me too.

every day of the week

and twice on Sunday, babe.

I feel and think much as

Still and all, why bother? Here's my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone. -Kurt Vonnegut stellamarrs postcard at semcoop