The Poetry Project

Two Poems

Peter Cole Friedman

McCarren Park #17

The trees are all like tada!xxxbut that’s their only trick

unless the wind comes with its slurry of dance movesxxxxxI walk

straight homexxxxxa dutiful verbxxxxreverberating

pushing no-name islands further into the etherxxxxWith my remote

tonguexxxxi can’t help but kissxxxxeverything

out of touchxxxxWith reality & especially lipstick

you have to wipe the cornersxxto make the look work

When pieces of the apocalypse would slip out of our pockets

your perfume was pure ridiculexxylang ylangxxxxgetting away

from you with murderxxxxsailing choppilyxxinto the gurgling flesh

of my stomachxxxxAll awash & thrown upxxxso it was a wash

after allxxxThe clouds will go back underground

forming bandsxxx& i’ll only hear about themxxxyears later

as the memories of cool friendsxxwho made

a cameo appearancexxon the gridxxto say what’s up

With the treesxxi’m guessing there’s a kind of explosive homage

being paidxxxx(“Atten-tion!”)xxxA toastxxxxxto new constellations

Thanks for the Memoirs

I’m goingxxxto stay inside

Tonightxxxxxxis a way of saying thank you

to our survival of todayxxxxLet’s make a toastxxxtoaster

to all of the ingredients we don’t need

to laughter riding the tricyclexxto the sexed-up flowers

Trying so hard to impress youxxxxi’ve lost all sense of myself-

less naturexxxxxxA cold robot hand massaging

My templesxxthese giant empty rooms people take off their shoesxxxin

The wandering in is an artxxthat’s hard to critique

without a paintbrushxxxxxxxYellow gold green

the colors are in size orderxxxxbut the rainbow can’t see

(Me whispering to a distant placexxxi found in a book)

A few answersxxxxto no question in particular

Yellow gold greenxxxthe sun changes its mind sometimes

just because it’s on firexxxxxDoesn’t mean I’m gonna save it

These circus eyes are distractedxxxphotons carrying too much

cotton candyxxxxFor the costume partyxxi’m going to be me

Issue 10