Friday, September 4, 2009

Kim Triedman [439]

1 comment:

Kim Triedman said...


I’d like to write a book about death.
In any case the sun is shining, which is

handy. If there were a place to start, it might
be here. So late last night: a skunk, and
the night before that a thousand people
snaking through a street.

Anyhow it’s been done before:

Remember the postcards – millions? –
and New York only ten feet out
the open window? Consider the birds,
crabbed; consider the bones, bleaching
in a field.
Too many to count (babies, too!) and even
a bride in a dress, smiling.

Honest to god, it’s a hell of a thing.

The evening of the day he died I ate eggs.
That one, too.