I Say This
Pulling 232 teeth out of the mouth of a teen
In Mumbai. Are you this teen? Are you this city?
I’ve never been there and I will probably never leave.
My parents get giddy next to the creek, and I feel
They should move here, or at least, meet my favorite cactus
In Texas, my shed accumulating couches poor saps
Can’t haul with them to Bermuda and I conjure
Them from the Craigslist. While I learn to sleep
The walls are made and my bacon devours me
Each morning. I feel happy in my tank top
Like a blue horse turning red. It’s not that he hates
Blue, but after awhile, it’s just nice to burn red,
You know? The fence still electric but switched off.
Adam and Eve, not Adam and sleeves, his cool buddy
Steve ripping at the seams. The landscape a Whitman
Poem if they knew what was good for them.
I say this and the cactus begins to float.
My parents in their prickly coats.
Other People’s Poems
Stopping by woods
on a snowy evening
Susie sings the blues.
Poem About 1968
My papa waking in a dark time!
gathering the bones together
A Letter In A Station Of The Metro
Then I saw moonlight
mourning an incident
here and there.
Why did you come?
Take me anywhere.
Love Song Of Waste
Delicious is not boring.
We must say so.
Lifting barbed wire under stars I begin
forbidding the anniversary of my death.
More light! More light!
Next To Of Course God
Gale in April shine,
my clouds at evening.
Somewhere I Have Never Travelled
November cotton flower portrait in Georgia.
Parents, You Asked About The Line Between Prose And Poetry
Pow. Unfinished blue waves
like mother always said.
Hatred goes to work.
I, Too, Dream Boogie
I marvel from the dark
tower at spring time.
I flower waking from sleep.
Disillusionment of grass!
Let me get up from America!
The creation of my flesh, living
death—look at a blackbird.
What The Living Do
Taking off my clothes
I sit and mend direct
patterns—a box, a plate,
tree at my window.
Two Or Three Wishes
John Keats do touch me tyrant.
Muse of water, fresh air,
permanent morning swim,
behaving like a Jew.
How It Is
Buffalo Bill’s Cambridge ladies
who live in furnished souls, dancing—
another insane devotion.
What Is Poetry
Often I am permitted
to return to a meadow.
Anecdote Of Understanding
Woman at the Washington
Zoo collapsed. Next day
I’m a fool to love you.
Preface To A Twenty Volume Suicide Note
Agony now, SOS—
black art, wrong train, final sonnet.
Cartoon Physics, Part 1
Our lady as from a quiver
of arrows, bag of mice.
There will come soft rains.
Animals are passing from our lives.
They feed. They lion.
Rowing Orion, you can have it—
abortion, wanting to die
in celebration of a uterus.
My mother would be a falcon.
The poet calling
The death of the man
Homage To My Heavy Bear
Who goes with me filling the dream
as mask, middle passage. If we must
die, dancer, gladly. New moon speaks
the epitaph of a death in Nova Scotia.
Speech Between Two People
W: Red wheelbarrow
S: Of ice cream
W: That greeny flower
S: Of mere being
Traveling through the dark at the bomb testing site
for my people. Mother in the front yard scars.
Lovers of the poor driving
to town. Becoming a real skunk
for the union.
Self-Portrait Of A Bear
Some trees died.
After making love we hear footsteps.
Amateur Fight Poetry
First Fig Poetry
Poem What The
Dark Symphony Poem
City Limits Poem
Power Poem at Thirty
Girlfriend Poem #13
Lying in a hammock, my son
mourning the oldest whorehouse
in West Virginia, condemned.
Sheep child calls us to the things of this world—
Degrees of gray in Philipsburg,
Swan falling in snow, freaks.
mail a letter
know a language
rain an hour
Train windows at the end of the world
Dreaming dead color
My executioner digging
& movies place blessing
down on autumn in Ohio.
a fresh light follows horses.
Death Of My Last Period
From my window the mechanic begins.
Two Lines From Bessie’s Song
She had some horses.
My house is the red earth.
Marriage like a thermometer.
Grandfather sang, “The porch is nobody’s
summer day.” We killed the roaches.
Classic Ballroom Dances
Allegory of Tucson
History of My Heart
Introduction To Poetry
After reading dead Allen Ginsberg
Christmas comes trimmed with colored ribbons.
Machinist Teaching His Daughter To Play
He was cool.
He even stopped for green lights.
In memory of the Utah stars the accompanist
lost a winter lullaby, looking for Judas.
How To Like It
Return a name.
Complement the language.
How blue or 1993.
Why Ralph Refuses To Dance
People of the other village.
Meeting The British
Away, silk pilot!
What in cold storm light
& legend begotten,
We were simply talking,
Imagining the hymns.
Mickey in the night kitchen for the third time before bed
wedding nocturne & daystar, thinking of Galileo.
yellow hair, black stars, and ice forest brilliance
Postfeminism Spare Tantrum
the orphan inherits
your one good dress
Out of Town
Little clown, my heart is whatever.
Crows in a strong wind got composed.
Boarding school calling
the Indian runaways errata, unholy, Arabic.
Jack Johnson does the eagle rock.
Black Nikes, wicked alcohol, everywhere.
Our youngest daughter
spooning the Bay Bridge
survivor, hot combs nearby.
Traveling, I name that equinox, white elephants, a million balconies.
Tyler Gobble is editor-in-chief of NOO Journal, chapbook editor of Magic Helicopter Press, and the host of Everything Is Bigger, a reading series in Austin, TX. He is currently a poetry fellow in the Michener Center for Writers. He has plopped out some chapbooks, most recently Collected Feelings with Layne Ransom (Forklift INK), and his first full-length collection, MORE WRECK MORE WRECK, is available from Coconut Books. He likes disc golf, tank tops, and bacon. More at www.tylergobble.com.
“Other People’s Poems” uses only words from the TOC of the Penguin Anthology of Twentieth Century American Poetry, edited by Rita Dove.