Saturday, November 1, 2008

Scott Glassman

Pillow Talk

Hi, I'm me.
Nice to meet you, you.I
t's nice to meet me too.
Who may I say has the pleasure?
You, I guess.How've I been?
Fine as far as you can tell.
Ask me something.
Sure, if you can help, go ahead.
Who is speaking here?
You mean, who is listening.
I'm sorry, what?
You always repeat myself.
You see?Who, you?
This is why we never
have this conversation.


Ail, breathe clouds downwind escaping
flustered groans higher
if jump-worthy kisses
laugh, my noble Oslo, perhaps
questions resound slowest
tied underneath
vacant worlds: xx yy zz


breakers caught
dangling, entrapped, frozen

happily in
journeys, kidnappings, love

Naples, Ontario,
Pittsburgh, Quebec, Raleigh . . .

to, unconsciously
vertical with X-boxes

yearning . . . zaftig

The Mural

no beginning
or end as though

all of you came
to walk through

the archaic light

a quotient
of always-ness

decimal followed
by so many zeros

something took its time
to breathe you
into itaren't you glad


A canary flew in
and threatened to peck
my eyes out if I didn't
announce my love for it.

I don't open my window
for canaries anymore.

-all poems gathered from his blog, 30 Days: poems

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