All I felt was fall in love.
—Anselm Berrigan (on being in the apartment
of Dodie Bellamy and Kevin Killian, from
various notes on Kevin’s passing in Harriet)
“I’m not naked,” says this poem
directly into a smallish crowd of
mostly youthful human beings who
think to a person that they know what
love is. It was, of course, a distant
and dreamy time when the sex of
the lyric was always sexy. “Diiiig,”
proclaims the piece, who knows bet
ter than to stand under the naked sun
with their shirt off on such a remarkable
Saturday afternoon. All of the humans
roll their eyeballs up until the insides of
their heads bleed, for they are the last hep
cats who can really soak up a trend (relish!).
various notes on Kevin’s passing in Harriet)
“I’m not naked,” says this poem
directly into a smallish crowd of
mostly youthful human beings who
think to a person that they know what
love is. It was, of course, a distant
and dreamy time when the sex of
the lyric was always sexy. “Diiiig,”
proclaims the piece, who knows bet
ter than to stand under the naked sun
with their shirt off on such a remarkable
Saturday afternoon. All of the humans
roll their eyeballs up until the insides of
their heads bleed, for they are the last hep
cats who can really soak up a trend (relish!).
