Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Donna Kuhn

He's an Umbrella Over Her Head

make me look, i don't care about this yard of planets
there is an umbrella over her, someone is old
wrinkled, the skinny ones are everything

something to realize, it's a tv show or a doll
a tree is down and i am in; a woman stays

say tape the planets, the intimate ones
a wife falls, she's toy milk in blond cartons
i am a fireman

a vision of an accident, she matters like a tree
know i am singing, everything mean u say he 

i have toys, toys of plastic necks
she's a writer, you're a wife
he's an umbrella over her

he doesn't give a crap, i am trying
to make a sculpture and a doll
he sees a song in the air

who made marshmallows, nobody
he says u want everything from me
something is a song

i am a mammogram, i'm having surgery
on my tv marshmallows, tape her skin
down on me


I Would Rather Have No Furniture

teeth and loose things left me without asking
where u appear, take it with sticks and wedding
rings that were all i had in my wallet

then listen and live with white teeth and wedding things
i would lose my hands, i would rather have no furniture
disappear just like magic, it's underneath the bed

the boots are underneath the counter and they are dark, listen
u have to lose me, i recognize your furniture hands
u are no different than furniture, bookcase things 

and slow hotels u left, lose me, without a dead lunch 
asking is it time u were, i won't find g.i. joe's boots 
i won't find anything, i find things and i shake them 

bank tellers pout without white teeth and wedding rings
every morning in that bank, that hotel, that mall i could 
shake my mind, teeth left in furniture, slow hotels 
u left shake me


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