I've already had a lot of them I'm looking at a tree full of tiny balls California trees are different thin eucalyptus more blades than leaves not hitting my face it's a country of tiny leaves no leaves simply balls I desire a big book about this not better than them but their friend. Who doesn't love the text? a book about trees it's like a park except that all its windows face outside you look up at the world & go: oh a book is a web I suppose saying you come here to go out an incessant trembling bridge which a tree is I imagine a tree my best friend & I love you on one of so many birthdays
Eileen Myles - 1949-
I was so willing to pull a page out of my notebook, a day, several bright days and live them as if I was only alive, thirsty, timeless, young enough, to do this one more time, to dare to have nothing so much to lose and to feel that potential dying of the self in the light as the only thing I thought that was spiritual, possible and because I had no other way to call that mind, I called it poetry, but it was flesh and time and bread and friends frightened and free enough to want to have another day that way, tear another page.