I said fate plays a game without a score,
and who needs fish if you've got caviar?
The triumph of the Gothic style would come to pass
and turn you on--no need for coke, or grass.
I sit by the window. Outside, an aspen.
When I loved, I loved deeply. It wasn't often.

I said the forest's only part of a tree.
Who needs the whole girl if you've got her knee?
Sick of the dust raised by the modern era,
the Russian eye would rest on an Estonian spire.
I sit by the window. The dishes are done.
I was happy here. But I won't be again.

I wrote: The bulb looks at the flower in fear,
and love, as an act, lacks a verb; the zer-
o Euclid thought the vanishing point became
wasn't math--it was the nothingness of Time.
I sit by the window. And while I sit
my youth comes back. Sometimes I'd smile. Or spit.

I said that the leaf may destory the bud;
what's fertile falls in fallow soil--a dud;
that on the flat field, the unshadowed plain
nature spills the seeds of trees in vain.
I sit by the window. Hands lock my knees.
My heavy shadow's my squat company.

My song was out of tune, my voice was cracked,
but at least no chorus can ever sing it back.
That talk like this reaps no reward bewilders
no one--no one's legs rest on my sholders.
I sit by the window in the dark. Like an express,
the waves behind the wavelike curtain crash.

A loyal subject of these second-rate years,
I proudly admit that my finest ideas
are second-rate, and may the future take them
as trophies of my struggle against suffocation.
I sit in the dark. And it would be hard to figure out
which is worse; the dark inside, or the darkness out.


Anonymous Submission

Joseph Brodsky

I have no idea why I come to this bar every night.
But I just do.
I just leave it feeling jet blue with the weight of the wanders of the world crushing down on my shoulders.
And I leave with questions and grief for anyone I see there.

Of pity for the girl behind the counter who isn’t very pretty.
She’s washed up on the wrong side of the great Mississippi.
Now she’s working ****** shifts and pulling pints filled with misery for the bums of the city.

Of shame for the alcoholic with his alcohol frozen brain.
Standing by the bar eying up his drink before he chooses where to take his aim.
But it’s his own fault he got dragged into this whole addiction game.

Of humiliation for the boy in the couple corner alone with his head filled with that question he shouldn’t have asked her.
At least he now knows his place for it finally been confirmed.
And so it’s time for him to forget it by ******* up his bottle of Estonian liqueur.

Of frustration for the poor taxi driver who picks up drunks stumbling up to his car under the influence of the pale moonlight every single night.
I ask him if he’s been busy even though I know he has been asked this by everyone he has picked up tonight.
Despite this he answers me just to be polite.

Of eternal embarrassment for my own self when my face hits the pillow and I ask what I’m doing with life.
Why I’ve went to that hellish bar another evening to get drunk off my face and spend all my of savings and come home alone to go to bed and cry again.
Worst of all is I know tomorrow it will be a repeat, like the next day and all days after that.

I have no idea why I come to this bar every night. But I just do.

Desire is the ocean’s distance between us
Ethereal fingers that long to touch
Lips of dust and smoky lust
Deep blue and green oceanic eyes
That gaze upon winters
Windy white and cold landscapes

Desire is wondering what words inspire
Knowing when eyes are not cast
Toward nature’s wonder
They are down deep dipping into other wordy worlds
Absorbing all their majesty

Desire is blonde hair falling past
Her soft and desirous shoulders
Curves that cut like a silhouette
Leaving a powerful impression
Of the feminine form

Desire is a daydream of
A stone fireplace that crackles
Keeping us warm while we read poetry
Uttering each verse to one another
Full red loving lips softly mouthing
Old odes of love, and philosophy
Closing the books with
Purple blooms as bookmarks
To remind my heart that nature is love

Desire is the unreachable
Fair skin and brilliance within
Imagining that what I am seeing
Could be close enough to touch
But knowing that what I want
Might as well be Mars distance away

Desire is waiting to read what she wrote
First thing in the morning
Hoping her passions have become
Another cold fusion Estonian sun
Full of the soft natural beauty
The grey roads, the foggy mornings
The white frosty plains that adorn her horizons

If I told you my desire was purely ******
Than that would be a lie
My Eros lies closer to the other side
Halfway between erotica and love
Pushing me curiously towards
Wondering what a smile looks like
On that face

Desire is warm hand to rid myself
Holding her heartfelt image in my mind
I find time to cleanse my being
Of that ache full lust
Parting with ****** passion
And returning to calmer and deeper affections

Why is the gorilla solitary?
    
     I’m not a primatologist
              I don’t know
But what I do know is that I want you sober and safe, if not sober, then safe.

But! “Would it be okay if I set up the time?”

A very serious thought should be inserted here, one that allows you to stay sane and within boundaries.

Don’t weep! Clean your room and visit your local art museum. If you need to, pick up an album beforehand and don’t remove your headphones while you walk through the museum mesmerized by the objects and paintings, you see. The gorilla that is the alpha male will sit alone. I don’t know why.

To reach out and grab a bottle of mustard and ketchup and put them on your hot dog is all I could ask for

And the backyard of your grandfather’s house is more than I could ask for

I will expect him to guide me out the glass door to his workshop where I will look in amazement and feel a certain feeling

I will want to pick up the tools
grandpa has laying around
and try to make something.
I won’t know how the machines work
and I will want the car he drives to have
                                            a broken wind shield.

I will want to write while you learn to paint
I will want to learn to write while you paint.

I will buy popular science books and visit a planetarium but won’t understand a thing the scientists are saying
I will use a different way to communicate that uu should be careful who you model yourself after.

       not crazy, operant conditioning!?
                              a form of expression
                                     with intent!

A four-walled room painted white
An isle to walk down alone.

A door you come upon, where you are greeted by a smile by a friend who has all the answers.
And without your neediness, or your distaste in the wrong culture, or the flutter that occurs to you and your conscience, or the answer to question three on your religion test, or a meal with your mother, or your father staying late working, no questions being asked,

                                                            you find yourself in
                                                     your room, still lost and needy

There is a course you could take and I encourage it.

Girlfriends are expensive. The definition of a cell is the single, smallest unit of an organism. There is room for growth! The sun! Clouds! Nimbus! Positioning! A room where you can be creative
                                                        ­      a conceptual space
                                                                ­         where you can sit
                                                             ­                     and smile

perhaps a café, boys,
or a hospital waiting room

after arriving in town by way of an airplane from San Francisco
where upon you are
immediately
rushed to the ER
because of an infection
in your stomach

you realize that football games aren’t all
that bad

And that your car doesn’t really need to
be washed every 2 weeks but that it’s strongly suggested.

You are wrong.

     Say I love you to her in 5 different languages

Estonian: Ma armastan sind
                Mina armastad sind (formal)

Czech: Miluji te

German: Ich liebe dich

Japanese: Kimi o ai shiteru

Latin: Te amo

put fresh air and family above
the and of or for
                      -
              work-space

                      -

Know when to stop and when to begin. Watch the cattle being herded by a lone cowboy.

         visit the petting zoo
                    pick up a Texas-mapped turtle

buy an aquarium and buy several fish,
some exotic,
and watch them grow & develop

                     The coral reef is blue and a variety of colors

                                      the deeper you go into the ocean, the darker it gets, the
                                          ticket to swim with the dolphins is only 20 dollars and on Tuesdays
                                                  the aquarium is free with a student
                                                    ID.

               Fuller
the park is free and open to the public,
you will know how to raise your child
you will know what to do when a creepy man approaches
you should know
     that
     jumping off the diving board into the
deep end and buying a fancy car is worth it, but ultimately, know when it’s time to come back home, you know, before it
gets too dark.

Part ll

A Shadow
                     Distributed

                                   Pushing against the wall

Another petting zoo
                                  a bathtub with a single fish in it
                                     a piñata-store
                                          a dream of a mother handing me her child

All of yesterday I looked back, I spent the entire day laying
in bed. It is late at night and I am alone. There is

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