woodcuttin'...we're woodcuttin'...oh isn't it wild

llama of the report:
a drama

(no it's not)

article 1:
there shall be no playthings,
no hinging anything on anything.

love will be achieved, if it is achieved,
by sense, touch sound and smell, and feeling,
sound and vision--

a knowledge in the anterior crock.

rulings and their aftershock.

in a time of cholera, love is
what we make it:

awaken.


article 2: winter shall be exiled.


article 3:
stars shooting in a sky like black hair:
your eyes against your face and those
sweet vermilion lips you painted on.

roses blooming on the left hand side of the fence.

soft sweet calumny: i did not exist,

until your visage
told me i did.




*notes to this poem: (to be read carefully)
"face" and "fence" rhyme about as much as "visage" and "i did." there is a connection to the parts: notice how in the first the author eschews the claims of "playthings," whereas in the third she relies only on vision to describe the object. the critical reader has to assume that the title, therefore, has something to do with this juxtaposition: does it constitute the "drama" referenced? in a post-9/11 context, the llama can be interpreted as representing the middle east, pretty obviously. and "winter" in the second part must reference the cyclical nature of seasons, ergo life, which is backed up by the star imagery in the third part.
-e.k.

in general

this never happened/bathroom things

making myself cum on your toilet seat.
outside a car blew by singing an eagles guitar solo.
wind into white curtains that had probably hanged there since the nineteen fifties.
a blue light; a little bit cold; an unsteady lock on the doorknob.
however i rarely get caught at such things.


using the soap in the library bathroom.
that foreign scent sticks to the hands,
sometimes for
hours.


washing my hair in my shower.
i had to stretch back to get my head under the nozzle.
if you do something every day, you can learn to

ignore the
way it makes you feel.


later i was