Monday, March 24, 2014


"I said you could snuggle. That doesn’t mean/ your cold feet all over my dick"

Oh, Louise Gluck is so good, and intimacy is so funny and cruel and singular and wonderful and awful, and I was rereading this poem ("Anniversary") yesterday:
I said you could snuggle. That doesn’t mean
your cold feet all over my dick.

Someone should teach you how to act in bed.
What I think is you should
keep your extremities to yourself.

Look what you did—
you made the cat move.

The short rest of it ("There's a lot more where those feet came from") at the Poetry Foundation.

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Goddess bless. This is one of my favorite poems.
Another great one from Meadowlands, is "The Butterfly"

Look, a butterfly. Did you make a wish?
You don't wish on butterflies.
You do so. Did you make one?
It doesn't count.


that was so perfect! =']@j


Ohhhhh, Louise. I read Meadowlands in high school while I was also reading The Odyssey and I fell in love. I used to leave voice mails on my friend's phones with her poems. One of my favorites is "The Edge"

Time and again, time and again I tie
My heart to that headboard
While my quilted cries
Harden against his hand. He's bored-
I see it. Don't I lick his bribes, set his bouquets
In water? Over Mother's lace I watch him drive into the gored
Roasts, deal slivers in his mercy... I can feel his thighs
Against me for the children's sake. Reward?
Mornings, crippled with this house,
I see him toast his toast and test
His coffee, hedgingly. The waste's my breakfast.


Dear god I get so pissed when a bed guest makes the cat jump off the bed.

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