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EXPOSURE THERAPY

I wanted to consult a palmist, then work backwards
towards something banal, less convicted

“Forget about the academy, let’s talk,” I said excitedly. “Here comes the future!”

The secret was always sitting back, devouring
crap culture in the nude

The other secret was light and shadow

I wanted to come back to art to take
excellent care of you

I wanted to show you my levity and strength
My sense-making practice

I was spinning in my therapist’s chair
thinking, “How can I breed this discomfort elsewhere?”

I wanted to recognize you like an uncanny poem
or a painting at the museum as it appreciates in value

My little genius, my special one

The sharpness of the scissor is only
as terrible as I imagine

SOMETHING TO CONSIDER WITHOUT SADNESS

It’s just like the movies: An old woman, lost in her nightdress, gestures toward the street. She is holding a TV remote. She doesn’t know where she lives. She doesn’t know any names or phone numbers. She’s telling stories about the old days. She doesn’t know she’s cold. Emergencies are bound to happen while we are having a moment together. It’s always just like the movies. A woman needs help.

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