c.rohrbacher

Father and Son


Dreamers Are Gluttons

 

Inheritance

 

Over  A Bowl Of Potato And Corn Soup, Mr. Marvin Tells Me How He Castrated Baby Goats

 

Love Poem #1


Leather Death Fruit and Flying -- A Consideration


The Mechanic Takes on Language


135th & Crossing


It Could've Been


Kermit's Jazz


The Muse


Herman


Immortality


In Time


Bottomed Out Language


Such Fears


Spreading Out Histories


Days Unfold


There is a Flutter of Noise in My Head






 

Love Poem #1

-           for Melanie

 

And who does not want that aftertaste

of mystery on their tongue?  I’ve listened to the stomach

grumble for something sweet

something like the sugar cane leaf which will make gums bleed,

for what food can be more mysterious than blood?

I don’t care whose it is.  Red and sticky between fingers,

thick on the lips.  Hemoglobin.

I’ve got the veins of cows and fish muscles and hog-skin

making rounds in my body.

I’ve got chewed tongue, thousands of taste buds exploding

onto more taste buds.  Imagine: all those tiny ellipses bunched up

like seconds and they’re all working away at the experience,

savoring the moment so to speak.  Every dinner: a resonance of taste--

something tender--something rare. 

 

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