(Click to enlarge)
Greenwich Village, Manhattan, NY
I’m still playing around with the size of truth on the radio. Yesterday, Christmas Day, radio station WBAI broadcast me reading these two poems. Many thanks to Prairie Miller, the host of Arts Express, who aired them. Click the orange buttons to hear the two short poems.
I grabbed Mary-Jane’s earrings in the movie theatre,
Unfastened them in the Hayley Mills light
The land of strange people’s chairs.
She stands by her lover’s bedroom lamp
Trying to be graceful
When the cheap backings drop.
Later, she betrays me, acting as if she’d
Never known me. Married rich
As if she’d never shoplifted.
On the subway, older, I saw
Her cradle her child’s baby
The toddler wears a knit hat and golden posts
That glint. Tiny hands move upwards, hypnotized,
Touching her naked ears
Which hear nothing but ancient, urgent, whispers.