Monday, January 26, 2015

poem for a baker

Poem for a Baker

I listened to Anselm and Eileen on the floor of Dynaco. Floored.

After the reading a young woman sitting next to me on the floor turned and said, -These were the perfect seats.

-Oh, watching the reading from the floor you mean? Yeah, right, especially when Eileen got up on the chair.

-Yeah, it was like she was reading poems down through the clouds.

-Totally, like we were children sitting at Mama's feet and listening to bed time stories.

-Hey, is that a sky-light up there?

-I don't know. If it was it's been boarded up.

-I had a sky-light growing up in my room.

-That must have been amazing, to see the clouds and stars and sun and moon right above your bed.

-Yeah, it was, I used to look for the moon every night.

-And there was Eileen Myles reading poems from the clouds.

-Yes, and this morning I even baked a loaf of Challah.

-You wha?

-It was cloud shaped.

-Well, there you go, you got a poem right there.

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