\u00a0
\nIn this poem everything happens at once
\nAnd keeps on happening.
\nWant a second opinion?
\nSorry. It\u2019s the eternal present,
\nOnly here, in your world.\u00a0
\nNot much fun, is it?
\nAll present moments are freaked
\nBy moments past,
\nAnd by implication, therefore,
\nThe ghosts of moments future.
\nComeuppance comes up more than once.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be go to hell,\u201d someone said,
\nWhen the past passed them by, sight unseen.
\nHappenstance juddered and wavered.
\nThe sky bore down, cluttered with artistry.
\nAll the greats are dead.
\nThey were always dead.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 –for Mary-Louise Parker POEM WITH NOTHING IN IT \u00a0 In this poem everything happens at once And keeps on happening. Want a second opinion? Sorry. It\u2019s the eternal present, Only here, in your world.\u00a0 Not much fun, is it? All present moments are freaked By moments past, And by implication, therefore, The ghosts of moments future. Comeuppance comes […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":259,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[351,353],"tags":[355],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n
\n\u00a0
\nIn your screen door metaphor, you
\nSighed and creaked, flew
\nOpen and slowed shut<\/em>
\nSo much it made me\u00a0
\nWant to ask you
\nTo check my vital signs,
\nStarting with my temperature,
\nHeart to heart,
\nOr like a mother\u2019s palm
\nOn the forehead of her child.
\nMy temperature is not normal.
\nIt\u2019s geothermal, astral
\nIn there.
\nThat\u2019s why my eyes
\nHair trigger flare
\nAt nothing
\nLike a spooked colt\u2019s.
\nNext you\u2019ll need to press
\nThis seashell against my chest
\nTo test my breath tides\u2014
\nCalms and squalls,
\nWaves and swells,
\nSurges and typhoons\u00a0
\nAnd sailors drowned.
\nTrace, if you will,
\nMy heart race
\nTo its finish under my jawline.
\nMy heart is in a hurry.
\nThat\u2019s not normal.
\nIt\u2019s like it wants to unwind
\nFrom a spool.
\nDespite tectonic strain
\nThe pressure in my veins
\nRemains deadpan,
\nNeglectful as the molten
\nCenter of the earth
\nIs to the sun.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"