Your object will have made a good subject and I should get to tell you so: the bird with a beak but no mouth, we hear him only when it's night in the Dominican Republic and Israel at the same time. Someone will find your marginalia useful, so try to spare some ink. I took dictation only from you, for whom
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Worst Things First
A bag of thank-you notes fell
on me and that was enough
art for one day. Culturally speaking,
it was more like a year
in the floral trenches, kicked off
with a single boneless kiss.
Poor sad demon in his poor dead tree—
or is it he who pities me, cockshy
quasihero with a latex lasso,
taking forever to measure
the dimensions of his confinement.
Some other demons have smeared a flock
of sparrows on a blanket, the full filthy
price of a sky under which they smoked
their names. My prize is a set
of teeth, striptease at the nude beach,
audio files of decomposing stars
telling me, if they’re telling me
anything, that theory’s just another word
for nothing left to like.
Mark Bibbins, born in Albany, New York, in 1968, received his BA at Hunter College and his MFA at The New School in Manhattan, where he has lived since 1991.
Bibbins is the author of three books of poetry: They Don’t Kill You Because They’re Hungry, They Kill You Because They’re Full (Copper Canyon Press, 2014); The Dance of No Hard Feelings (Copper Canyon Press, 2009); and Sky Lounge (Graywolf Press, 2003), winner of a Lambda Literary Award.