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Jacket 16 — March 2002   |   # 16  Contents   |   Homepage   |  Catalog   |    

Angel Hair feature

Bill Bathurst: To Marthe

Cover of Angel Hair anthology

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I can’t get out of this city.
One by one my friends run afoul the law.
I run myself crazy getting nothing done,
don’t stop to sleep or help them out.

Bruise inside left elbow from
tapping outfit in after blood
too often, it’s easiest there.
My life inside the last line.

Always the easiest way often, &
wear short sleeves. Let them stare,
be damned & drive on. I do what I want.
For you I’d spill out on a table

all I’ve kept clenched inside,
betray my true nature with joy.
Next Christmas Eve at quarter past noon
I was born thirty-three years ago

in Chico, California
under Capricorn
I cross swords with
whenever I catch it shining

out of my night, like now,
typing this poem, at right angles to
the straight line of my desire
rolls out like a carpet, out

where we touch, Marthe,
I make you come so good
you let go pleasures I claim my own,
mine by birthright of relentless desire

now in my throat like a fist
with its knuckles growing white
that makes every word I sing
an ache in my balls without you.

from Angel Hair 6, Spring 1969

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