This recording is part of the program “Close Listening,” with Charles Bernstein.
A production of WPS1.org, in collaboration with PennSound. For more from the series, go to: http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Fischer.html
Susan paints her toenails
As an offering to the Mets
And to death
You can’t edit death
Only you can audit it and even this
Is doubtful or artful
Or even awful
Or allfull of all these
Pleasures either decrease or increase
At the edge near the end
These speculations may be easy for me
Who have no such expectations for the moment
As far as he knows
And he thinks about it frequently
Certain times of the day
Without morbidity, more curiosity, expectation
Like the thrill of each grandstand-bound
Foul ball when you feel that certainly
The next will land in your glove
Home is where the heart is
And this
Is just a lump of flesh
Kat thinks
It’s all her fault
But it’s not anyone’s fault
It is no fault
Yet what you do
Absolutely matters
