My insomnia has asked me to share this gorgeous untitled poem by DREW KALBACH. It's from SENTENTIA's first issue and has become one of my favorites ever ever.
Your fingernails grow for years and curl
into tight yellow spirals.
You hold them close to my face and they smell like flowers.
We take off our jackets
and underneath are more jackets and more jackets.
You walk me to the meadow covered in water
and point at the ground:
there, there is the top, and below
are thousands of yellow sticks of butter.
Nobody swims here.
The alligators grow fat and beautiful.
I feed them bits of my feet, strands of your hair,
broken yellow teeth,
kite strings.
i heard him read this in philly. and i agree. drew is my hero. also, do you have a copy of his chapbook, the zen of chainsaws and enormous clippers, if not, when i catch up with you in michigan i will bring you a copy or two.
ReplyDeleteI was going to try to pick up a copy, but if you have extra, that's even better. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteWait till you see the bomb he's about to drop in the next issue of The Northville Review. Ya'll ain't gonna believe this shit. It's 100% funktafied.
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