DUSTING FOR PRINTS
The subject is distant from and dark.
If you feel you can no longer pray, care less, don't be selfish.
Sometimes it's you and I'm calling to you but I say the wrong name.
Several glass ashtrays, the panther lamp. The light bent toward the map.
The subject is distant, and dark.
If you feel you can no longer pray, personally, I like trees, birds.
Personal & unintelligible, my addiction bores me.
I remember driving you somewhere. Driving, and it was snowy.
A woman is driving coast to coast. She is listening to a book on tape, a murder mystery. The poems she's writing in the motels each night combine mystery matter with observation and memory. Later some of those poems will become a chapbook called Where's the Body? A collection of this character's chapbooks form the manuscript case sensitive, my attempt to make the kind of mystery I'd like to read, with all the stuff that I don't need (the murder, etc.) removed.