June 06, 2008

After the Party

        Jesse's shirt, I address you in the affirmative

         early hour I handle with honor

                                                                 if only

                                             it were serious enough


                              linens to be discussed

                                                                     decorate this day

                  every hour a new babe is born

                                                                          Am I serious enough

                                              to be addressing Blake? Do I care?

                                                                               Dressing and undressing

                                                                                                              there simply

are no rules. I am serious.
—Patrick James Dunagan

Posted by dwaber at 02:31 PM

June 05, 2008


ear insists,
is a

asking for

in the

in the saying.

Insists in
the asking.

Night closes
door window

to begin
in words
with words.

The ear-
in the instant,

—Patrick James Dunagan

Posted by dwaber at 01:59 PM

June 04, 2008

I Haven't Even Told You Who I Am

I work in the back room, planting igloos.
I came to this occupation with no set purpose.
I heard they were hiring and applied, dreaming "adventures on ice."
I believe I wooed the boss with my tall tales and heroic looks.

Most mornings I drink coffee and rest easy.
Most begin without deliberate end.
Most remain inside as I go out.
Most would cite obscure texts and leave it at that.

As if I wasn't aware, alive in all this wet heat.
As if igloos.
As if in old photos the halls of my youth.
As if ever.

Here's the thing: this isn't going anywhere.
Here's the thing, quote,
"Here's the thing. Believe in what's said or don't. It won't change anything."
Here's the thing: I no longer believe in this particular thing.

—Patrick James Dunagan

Posted by dwaber at 01:58 PM

June 03, 2008

Bloggie Ars Poetica

I understood what the intruders meant
when the ugliness of their words
shone back at me via a webb’d existence
only a slow-minded mammal
would bother fooling with.

—Patrick James Dunagan

Posted by dwaber at 12:49 PM