I wrote hard on paper at the bottom of a pool near a canyon where the stars slid onto their bellies like fish I wrote: … I went through the mountain through the leaves of La Puente to see the moon but it was too late too long ago to walk on glass. … Near those years when the house fell on me my father told me draw mom in bed with another man— … From a plum tree the sound of branches fall like fruit I’m older no longer afraid my voice like water pulled from the well where the wind had been buried where someone was always running into my room asking, what’s wrong?
I turn on the radio and hear horses, girls becoming women after tragedy. Talk about dreams! His heart was covered in a thin shell the color of the moon, and when touched, I’d grow old. The best movies have a philosophy, Dorothy, after being subjected to witch-on-girl violence, is rescued. Someone hung himself on that set, a man, who loved, but couldn’t have a certain woman. Management said it was a bird. The best movies begin with an encounter and end with someone setting someone free. In Coppola’s version of Dracula my favorite scene is when the camera chases two women through a garden and watches them kiss. I made love to a man who asked, after many years, for me to choke him, so that later, cleaning a kitchen cabinet, I read a recipe he’d written into wood, and I had a hard time believing him.