All the poems I have not written
Since last summer are for Joss Whedon,
Doug Ashford, Suzanne Lacy, and
Brandon Brown
In the mood of confessional
In the mood of withdrawal
Disagreeing with your
Aesthetic politics again
Talk go thru us
Disagreeing with your ethics
I want to dance
If I started crying
It would not stop
The world continues to end
What these tears can’t end
Synching this apocalypse with what we really want
Words can do things after all if we let them
A word is worth a thousand gestures
Elegies for everything that won’t keep moving capital
I would like to write one sentence
As affectively grounded as one of Robert
Gluck’s sentences, who approaches the subject
Through technique to arrive back at the subject
Like Wojnarowicz says the dreams of his youth
Like he says of the replication of himself
The rope trick called subjectivity
When has a soul mattered more than
Wojnarowicz staring down from space
Wanting to engage himself from that haunted
Condition that is the injustice of plague
I would like to write one sentence that
Could touch the catastrophe of our collective body
But I am trapped in the hell of this being a person
Elegy for the truth that won’t escape with me from my youth.
--composed fall 2012
