being a poet (waitress sonnet)
after Catullus 51
tips too much, that god sitting across from you, again
and again, these extravagant gestures, it brings
me down, brings down
sense and tongue, he, resounding
with my longing, seems to me like a mirror, eyeing
my fleeting glances, my feet tripping
over chairs, idle laughter
or was it coins resounding, seizing the time
yet revelry runs fiercely
through my senses
as if through the burning house of poetry
my mouth lit up
with dazzling fire, one day
I’ll say something
trippy (bedroom sonnet)
after Catullus 2
trippy, this bird
you let under the sheet
of your shirt, eyes
on me, making light
of the weight
of your feelings, a skittering
on your skin, if it hurts
you’re asking for it
should be soaring like a god
into the sky, should be
pouring out an ecstasy of song, should
should should should should should should
should should should
should should should
status update (high school sonnet)
after Catullus 5
types too much, that girl sitting over her screen, a hundred
likes, a thousand friends, lit up
with envy, let her set
at nothing our love, let us let loose
our escapades in the light
of an old reality, let them mark our absences
unjustified while the sun
burns our skin,
let rumours on the count of a thousand fly
like sand, if you
on the count of a thousand
update your status,
on the count of a hundred
I will update mine
through and through (party sonnet)
after Catullus 27
tip this out, I won’t be served with
watered down wine, this is
wine procured by
a prefect, drunker than
a drunk grape,
setting an example
I feel
I should follow…
so, off with you, water, you toxic
substance, too late
to effect a cure on me, I’m drunk
through and through,
it has spread to my nymph-nodes –
I’m [hic] all wine’s
tastes like wine (dawn sonnet)
after Catullus 48
tastes like wine, this boy sitting across from me, his
honey eyes looking like yours as he implores
me to join him on the floor
the table a low ceiling swirling
like a chandelier
in the earthquake of these kisses
table legs circling
like the blades of a combine harvester
every kiss is a near miss
my heart escaping like a mouse
into the corn
the summer’s sun all rolled into one
ripeness I can
never get enough of
down and out (detention sonnet)
after Catullus 87
so tempted to tip over these chairs outside the office
in which supposedly
you are accounting for our behaviour
as I will be asked, on my part, to account
in turn
when you will take your place
on one of these untipped chairs, this one
perhaps, still warm
as if anyone could account for a love
like I offer you –
I offer you my unlimited liability
like origami
let’s fold ourselves
down and out
without salt, without drowning (Icarus sonnet)
after Catullus 86
tips almost to the floor, the chair held by that girl in brown
gesticulating so wildly, declaiming
the necessity for opposites to stay within categories
or you might as well call Icarus
the opposite of…of…a duvet. And look
at everyone fall in love with her
at the thought of her under a duvet,
everyone
except me, too far already fallen
from a sun bleaching
out any other beauty from the world
I have no taste for
beauty without salt, without
drowning
written on water (dispersal sonnet)
after Catullus 70
falling asleep to your dissolving Instagram
your revisions of our history
I dream a skittering twitter feed
and wake to find it real
one betrayal after another
pixels of me soaring
from screen to cloud to screen
bringing me down
when you said you would call our child Perusal
I thought
I could be with you forever
now I think
one day I will call a child
Dispersal
I, a windowsill (magnet sonnet)
after Catullus 75
you, a magnet and I, quivering filings
you, a window and I, quivering air
I cannot desist in loving you
more and more
even as I like you less
I couldn’t like you
now even if
there was nothing not to like
you could be perfect
and I would be
wooden
I, a windowsill and you, a bird
singing as my crumbs
grow stale
caught in your teeth (Lysistrata sonnet)
after Catullus 37
a tip, a tavern, a brothel, an army encampment
in which your whole cast is at war with each other, don’t think
I’m sorry to be out of this heteronormative
production put on year after year
I prefer my own lines
this spray can a more potent prop
than the cardboard cocks
of your latest crushes
taken aside for extra rehearsals
after which
you have curly hairs caught in your teeth
don’t think I care what your mouth tastes like now
(of whom your mouth tastes)
I’m going to write something beautiful
too much pleasure (phone sonnet)
after Catullus 83
takes too much pleasure, he does, in your
idle laughter, your insults, as you
put me down
again and again, like
a phone you can’t stop playing with
your eyes flickering
over his shoulder
where I’m not looking at you
but I hear you
and can’t see how he can’t know
if you can’t stop talking about me
it is just a matter of time
I’m not even waiting on you
you’re already on fire
I love and I hate (equation sonnet)
after Catullus 85
if I am north to your south I am south to your south too
if permeability measures the ability
to support a magnetic field
within the self
I am permeable to the inverse ratio
of your perfection
attracted and repelled till my teeth
are audible across the room, beyond the skies
racing the Beatles song “Across the Universe”
to reach some distant form of life
which will be wondering, why would I compose
such a complicated feeling-equation?
I don’t know
I just feel it
taking off (note sonnet)
after Catullus 11
taking off as soon as the year ends
is the sum total of the plan
staying somewhere with a hundred stars
over my head
where I can lie awake listening
to a thousand waves
bettering themselves on the shores
before giving it all up
and as for you, maybe you will
find a minute between hand jobs
to read the note I’ll leave you
which will say nothing
since I’ll be as free of you as the sea is free
of stars, the sky is free of sand
being cold (bonfire sonnet)
after Catullus 8
time it right and you’ll be already there on the other side
of the flames, not seeing me, flames
reflected in the puddles, I’ll be
cold, the skin hot on my face, gulls
lifting and soaring, pulling on my feelings
like music, strung out, the way
I let you direct me however you wanted, banking
and swerving, but now
the pressure is off, you’ve got no one
lining up with offerings, begging
for a part, and I
will love you on the other side of the flames
just as long as the fire keeps on burning
then I’ll stop
after Catullus 51
tips too much, that god sitting across from you, again
and again, these extravagant gestures, it brings
me down, brings down
sense and tongue, he, resounding
with my longing, seems to me like a mirror, eyeing
my fleeting glances, my feet tripping
over chairs, idle laughter
or was it coins resounding, seizing the time
yet revelry runs fiercely
through my senses
as if through the burning house of poetry
my mouth lit up
with dazzling fire, one day
I’ll say something
trippy (bedroom sonnet)
after Catullus 2
trippy, this bird
you let under the sheet
of your shirt, eyes
on me, making light
of the weight
of your feelings, a skittering
on your skin, if it hurts
you’re asking for it
should be soaring like a god
into the sky, should be
pouring out an ecstasy of song, should
should should should should should should
should should should
should should should
status update (high school sonnet)
after Catullus 5
types too much, that girl sitting over her screen, a hundred
likes, a thousand friends, lit up
with envy, let her set
at nothing our love, let us let loose
our escapades in the light
of an old reality, let them mark our absences
unjustified while the sun
burns our skin,
let rumours on the count of a thousand fly
like sand, if you
on the count of a thousand
update your status,
on the count of a hundred
I will update mine
through and through (party sonnet)
after Catullus 27
tip this out, I won’t be served with
watered down wine, this is
wine procured by
a prefect, drunker than
a drunk grape,
setting an example
I feel
I should follow…
so, off with you, water, you toxic
substance, too late
to effect a cure on me, I’m drunk
through and through,
it has spread to my nymph-nodes –
I’m [hic] all wine’s
tastes like wine (dawn sonnet)
after Catullus 48
tastes like wine, this boy sitting across from me, his
honey eyes looking like yours as he implores
me to join him on the floor
the table a low ceiling swirling
like a chandelier
in the earthquake of these kisses
table legs circling
like the blades of a combine harvester
every kiss is a near miss
my heart escaping like a mouse
into the corn
the summer’s sun all rolled into one
ripeness I can
never get enough of
down and out (detention sonnet)
after Catullus 87
so tempted to tip over these chairs outside the office
in which supposedly
you are accounting for our behaviour
as I will be asked, on my part, to account
in turn
when you will take your place
on one of these untipped chairs, this one
perhaps, still warm
as if anyone could account for a love
like I offer you –
I offer you my unlimited liability
like origami
let’s fold ourselves
down and out
without salt, without drowning (Icarus sonnet)
after Catullus 86
tips almost to the floor, the chair held by that girl in brown
gesticulating so wildly, declaiming
the necessity for opposites to stay within categories
or you might as well call Icarus
the opposite of…of…a duvet. And look
at everyone fall in love with her
at the thought of her under a duvet,
everyone
except me, too far already fallen
from a sun bleaching
out any other beauty from the world
I have no taste for
beauty without salt, without
drowning
written on water (dispersal sonnet)
after Catullus 70
falling asleep to your dissolving Instagram
your revisions of our history
I dream a skittering twitter feed
and wake to find it real
one betrayal after another
pixels of me soaring
from screen to cloud to screen
bringing me down
when you said you would call our child Perusal
I thought
I could be with you forever
now I think
one day I will call a child
Dispersal
I, a windowsill (magnet sonnet)
after Catullus 75
you, a magnet and I, quivering filings
you, a window and I, quivering air
I cannot desist in loving you
more and more
even as I like you less
I couldn’t like you
now even if
there was nothing not to like
you could be perfect
and I would be
wooden
I, a windowsill and you, a bird
singing as my crumbs
grow stale
caught in your teeth (Lysistrata sonnet)
after Catullus 37
a tip, a tavern, a brothel, an army encampment
in which your whole cast is at war with each other, don’t think
I’m sorry to be out of this heteronormative
production put on year after year
I prefer my own lines
this spray can a more potent prop
than the cardboard cocks
of your latest crushes
taken aside for extra rehearsals
after which
you have curly hairs caught in your teeth
don’t think I care what your mouth tastes like now
(of whom your mouth tastes)
I’m going to write something beautiful
too much pleasure (phone sonnet)
after Catullus 83
takes too much pleasure, he does, in your
idle laughter, your insults, as you
put me down
again and again, like
a phone you can’t stop playing with
your eyes flickering
over his shoulder
where I’m not looking at you
but I hear you
and can’t see how he can’t know
if you can’t stop talking about me
it is just a matter of time
I’m not even waiting on you
you’re already on fire
I love and I hate (equation sonnet)
after Catullus 85
if I am north to your south I am south to your south too
if permeability measures the ability
to support a magnetic field
within the self
I am permeable to the inverse ratio
of your perfection
attracted and repelled till my teeth
are audible across the room, beyond the skies
racing the Beatles song “Across the Universe”
to reach some distant form of life
which will be wondering, why would I compose
such a complicated feeling-equation?
I don’t know
I just feel it
taking off (note sonnet)
after Catullus 11
taking off as soon as the year ends
is the sum total of the plan
staying somewhere with a hundred stars
over my head
where I can lie awake listening
to a thousand waves
bettering themselves on the shores
before giving it all up
and as for you, maybe you will
find a minute between hand jobs
to read the note I’ll leave you
which will say nothing
since I’ll be as free of you as the sea is free
of stars, the sky is free of sand
being cold (bonfire sonnet)
after Catullus 8
time it right and you’ll be already there on the other side
of the flames, not seeing me, flames
reflected in the puddles, I’ll be
cold, the skin hot on my face, gulls
lifting and soaring, pulling on my feelings
like music, strung out, the way
I let you direct me however you wanted, banking
and swerving, but now
the pressure is off, you’ve got no one
lining up with offerings, begging
for a part, and I
will love you on the other side of the flames
just as long as the fire keeps on burning
then I’ll stop
