VINYL POETRY

Volume 3, May 2011

BIRDIE
Andrea KneelandView Contributor’s Note

All of My Never Done Things

after Kathryn Regina’s “Sometimes When on Fire” When I sleep I dream that I am awake & there are voices everywhere, touching me with fingers that are voices & not fingers. The fingers are voices, flexing their joints forever, telling me all of the things. All of the things I said I will do & have never done. All of my never done things. I will myself to disappear. To disappear but instead I will fill the room & remember all of the things that I do not know & I will never learn: what you are made of & your head & your heart & what they are made of. What you are made of. You are made of all of my never done things. All of my never done things like you & your heart & your head & your heart & what we have not done to make me to disappear. The fingers shape signs that only I can see & the words are all things like “stop” & “money” & “love” & “cunt” & “your heart is an axe through a cloud.” The moon is one of those things, like your head, that is not also real.