poem index

poet

Julian Talamantez Brolaski

by this poet

poem

clock reads 7 at all hours
juncos make selves known in the snow
this time dawdling
I write in horse, but I see in athabascan
when it’s time for elevensies, the clock reads 7
what telling fortune therewith
time is a thing that gets spent, like youth, $ and desire
n/t so lovely as a

poem
socalled swan of avon
n/t but a beaurocrat
buggering the buttercups
goy from the waist up


now soldiers're the ones making offers
and fucking caravaggio posters
maybe the artist had bothered about melancholia


suddenly xe finds xemself walking down
some dark corridor


california was truly the promised land
poem
                                for memorial at Zinc Bar, 23 June 2007, NYC

		I am your sugarplum fairy commodore in chief.
			—kari edwards

		conturbabimus illa.
                                (Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus 
		[let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love])
			—Catullus V.II