Contributor Series 9: If Men Had Ears
Is she young?
By Jeffrey Grunthaner
By Jeffrey Grunthaner
Well, it’s not like such things weren’t
always in the works. You know this,
& still it hurts. The answers must
lie in the radio, churning out hits
like an espresso machine. Layer pills
with some coffee, & then take some
of these. Today is the greatest day
for favorite mistakes: long graphs,
telepathic plots into puzzlement.
Life leaves you surprised, slaps you
in the eyes. Invitations set off absence
and casually mimic the dry egotism
of rage, hidden behind a ritual
cigarette in the lips of a smile. After,
you feel smaller than the letters in
Numerologist.com. The smokestack
atmosphere colored the drop of a dime
faces only you, & pretends an absence
to all weather. Anyway you want it,
that’s how you need it. Each success
ends suddenly in vacancy, impotence,
hysteria / & noxious of breath, doesn’t it
just flounce you to think of all the deals
you’ve traded off? All of it translates
into watery romance, light conversation
wetted by angels in a stream by Novalis.
Is it sinister? Yeah, I think so.
Jeffrey Grunthaner’s most recent poem to appear here was New Wave/New Vogue (October 1010).
