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Overview
More, How again after months there is awe. The most personal moment of the day appears unannounced. People wear leather. People refuse to die. There are strangers who look like they could know your name. And the smell of a bar on a cold night, or the sound of traffic as it follows you home. Sirens. Parties. How balconies hold us. Whatever enough is, it hasn't arrived. And on some dead afternoon when you'll likely forget this, as you browse through the vintage again and again-there it is, what everyone's given up just to stay here. Jeweled hairpins, scratched records, their fast youth. Everything they've given up to stay here and find more.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781556595998 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Copper Canyon Press |
| Publication date: | 02/09/2021 |
| Sales rank: | 182,452 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.90(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.50(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
August
So this is love. When it slows
the rain touches everyone on their way home.
Whatever was promised of pleasure
costs the body more than it has.
Perhaps they were right putting love into books…
to look at the sky without asking a question,
to look at the sea and know you won’t drown today.
Despite all our work, even the worst of life
has a place in memory. And the fixed hours
between two and five before evening
are the aimless future with someone
who cannot stay new. August returns us
to a gap in history where our errors
find the invention of a kinder regret.
Almost possible: to believe these days
will change more than us but the past too.
Which is blue and without end.
A long drive toward a remembered place.
A secret left on a beach. Underwater
where the voices of summer are tones of speech,
requiring less of the mind. The familiar creaks
in the old floorboards. Glasses left out in the storm.
Our handwritten lists with every illegible worry
and more. The person you think of
despite their cruelty. The sun and its cruelty.
How it’s kept its distance and kept us alive.
Not needing to know anything about what we do
with the rest of desire.
More
How again after months there is awe.
The most personal moment of the day
appears unannounced. People wear leather.
People refuse to die. There are strangers
who look like they could know your name.
And the smell of a bar on a cold night,
or the sound of traffic as it follows you home.
Sirens. Parties. How balconies hold us.
Whatever enough is, it hasn’t arrived.
And on some dead afternoon
when you’ll likely forget this,
as you browse through the vintage
again and again—there it is,
what everyone’s given up
just to stay here. Jeweled hairpins,
scratched records, their fast youth.
Everything they’ve given up
to stay here and find more.
Places I've Contemplated Suicide or Sent Nudes From
My bed
The bathrooms at the Frederick Hotel
Cabs
The 7-Eleven on 74th and 1st
The Museum of Modern Art
The Museum of Modern Art’s Robert Gober opening in 2014
My writing desk
The stairwells of so many buildings
An elevator once
My favorite wine bar (which I won’t actually name)
A few times at a friend’s place
(a friend I used to sleep with
a friend who used to be a friend)
Central Park
The Marlton Hotel
The Plaza
The Starbucks on 75th and 1st
My bathtub
My bathroom
My very sad kitchen
in which I never cook
and look
how this is no longer
a list poem.
I wonder if anyone can actually tell what I am.
I wonder why it is they keep looking.
I wonder why they keep looking
and asking me to disappear at the same time.
Table of Contents
Sunset on 14th Street 3
I
Living on Earth 9
Dark Matter 10
1969 12
Waiting at Stonewall 13
Time 15
Love 16
Once 26
June 27
River Phoenix 29
Summer Solstice 30
July 31
The Sun 32
New Moon 33
August 34
II
My Secret 37
Impermanence 39
Golden Record 40
Rehearsals 44
September 45
Pale Blue Dot 46
Zenith 48
October 49
Yes 50
No 51
November 52
Full Moon 54
A True Account of Talking to the Moon at Fire Island 55
More 58
III
Having a Diet Coke with You 61
For the Critics 63
New York 64
Weldon Kees 70
December 71
Poem for the Reader 72
Winter Solstice 73
January 74
LSD 75
Poem Composed on a Ouija Board 76
February 77
Places I've Contemplated Suicide or Sent Nudes From 78
Ether 80
IV
Rehearsals for Utopia 83
Orlando 84
American Life 85
Blue Marble 86
March 87
History 88
The Weather of Our Lives 89
April 90
Immortality 91
Poem without God 92
May 93
Suddenly, Summer 94
To Everything 95
Notes for My Funeral 96
V
Poem Written in a Cab 99
Notes 115
Acknowledgments 117
About the Author 119