Straggling and Dragglings: Why I Keep Missing Readings

Most of the time the font is too big, so I have to make it
smaller, but then I can't read what I've written.

Tonight there was a thing about women, and it seemed like the kind of thing
people who would like that kind of thing would like to attend,
and I considered myself one of those people, but I marked the calendar
and then forgot the address. I left it behind like a treasure map for someone
else to find,
maybe they made it there, but it would have been nice
to remember once I'd gotten out of the subway.

I would have seen Eileen Myles read
again and maybe would have found something to say about it
this time, but the awe would have remained. And I could have heard from Maggie Nelson
about the things we all were hearing,
and why, and where they founded all of this sound. And Wayne Koestenbaum
might have read from Hotel Theory, or Hotel Women, or both, and it would have been something I could have noted. Last time I waited too long and as I've mentioned, there was a lack in regards to the notes, and the notes which weren't would have shared this, that there was a great pleasure in discovering Rebecca Curtis. I discovered her sitting next to me. And tonight I could have brought a magazine with Kim Gordon and her husband on the cover, and I could write about it, like I wrote about him, or their guitar player, and then I would have only needed one more of the sonic youth and I would have been able to get out of this chair.

The chair has become uncomfortable.

But there was not the time.
There was not the time behind the book.
There was not the time within the project.
There was not the time for single parts gravity.
There was not the time for gypsy harpers.

Holding my eye in my hand
i move my legs, i rise to the balls
of my feet, and I take it on faith,
the show is in the bottle,
I just need to pop the cork.