Two Poems
Mark Bibbins
And Further, More.
The bumblebees headline, windjerked,
blunt—more boredom under
honeysuckle. Twilight
was designed for us to happen
within it, so move me with your motorik,
your jugular mien.
[lone river martin in a tree
or thousands churning
a black Borealis over the water—
choose one or choose both]
We come to believe we behaved
appropriately, but what
do we know, we’re only
envelopes indicating the very things
we were meant to obscure.
In the Tiergarten I met
you at the appointed bridge,
yet the stream was narrow
enough to step across.
A tattered moth
followed us around
for hours so we named it
Got Creamation, then changed it
to Blood Escaping My Hands.
from Forcefield
with mistook eyes
I didn’t notice you
underneath
a newly minted paramour
you wound up
wired and weird on your
precipice
then fell
so the oddest of all books
is glass
of all animals
he-who-lives-a-thousand-miles
and what we did
[together]
nothing
[and never]
almost
from here the fjords
wrinkle together
everyone wants to roll down
the sides
blissful we hand away
our teeth
[how we let ourself plunge
and
plunge]