k a t h l e e n m a r i s
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How many times have I mistaken you |
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She climbed out onto the terrace of terraces to adjust the aluminum foil covered rabbit ears. She wanted to meditate on a small black circle until she entered it, until she could hear nothing, not even herself, or until she could hear a kind of nothing that was more like a bridge, a clause, like a pain, or joy, without our old thoughts. She listened, and what she could hear was so faint, it was like an s without a tongue. She wondered, How can I give it voice? Then, there was this left-over hum, hum, and yes there were empty words but there were unempty words too, so she began twisting and turning the rabbit ears, shouting, I want to hear it all, all of it, all, and when the soft dark soft of the world resumed, she loved, she did love, the noise it made. |
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KATHLEEN MARIS's poems have appeared in Thrush, InDigest, Poems by Sunday, Sun's Skeleton, and Sugar Mule. She recently completed her MFA at the University of New Hampshire where she teaches English as a Second Language. |
a l i c e b l u e t w e n t y - o n e I S S N 1 5 5 9 - 6 5 6 7 |