If interested in having me for a reading, class visit, or conference/festival, please contact me at lorcaloca AT aol DOT com

Friday, January 07, 2011

poems that i love

Work Song

My name is Henri. Listen. It’s morning.
I pull me head from my scissors, I pull
The light bulb from my mouth – Boss comes at me
While I’m still blinking.
Pastes the pink slip on my collar bone.
It’s O.K., I say, I was a lazy worker, and I stole.
I wipe my feet on his skullcap on the way out.

I am Henri, mouth full of soda crackers.
I live in Toulouse, which is a piece of cardboard.
Summers the mayors paint it blue, we fish in it.
Winters we skate on it. Children are always
Drowning or falling in the cracks. Parents are distraught
But get over it. It’s easy to replace a child.
Like my parents’ child, Henri.

I stuff my hands into my shoes
And I crawl through the snow on all fours.
Animals fear me. I smell so good.
I have two sets of footprints, I confuse the police.
When I reach the highway I unzip my head.

I am a zipper. A paper cut.
I fed myself so many times
through the shredder I am confetti,
I am a ticker-tape parade, I am an astronaut
Waving from my convertible at Henri.

Henri from Toulouse, is that you?
Why the unhappy face? I should shoot you
For spoiling my parade. Come on, man,
Glue yourself together! You want so much to die
That you don’t want to die.

My name is Henri. I am Toulouse. I am scraps
Of bleached parchment, I am the standing militia,
I am a quill, the Red Cross, I am the feather
in my cap, the Hebrew Testament, I am the World Court.
An electric fan blows
Beneath my black robe. I am dignity itself.

I am an ice machine.
I am an alp.
I stuff myself in the refrigertator
Wrapped in newsprint. With salt in my heart
I stay good for days.

Mark Levine


Matthew said...

damn. that is a great poem.

Radish King said...

Oh this is amazing. Thank you!