Three Wishes
-by Eileen Myles

The tree shadow
is longer across
the lawn.
Longer than
when? The
last time
I sat
here. It
was earlier
in the summer
now it's
August
we go deeper
into the
year like
a knife
into an
apple
or a day
that
hurts so
much &
its beauty
is almost
gone.

On the Death of Robert Lowell
-- by Eileen Myles

O, I don't give a shit.
He was an old white haired man
Insensate beyond belief and
Filled with much anxiety about his imagined
Pain. Not that I'd know
I hate fucking wasps.
The guy was a loon.
Signed up for Spring Semester at Macleans
A really lush retreat among pines and
Hippy attendants. Ray Charles also
once rested there.
So did James Taylor...
The famous, as we know, are nuts.
Take Robert Lowell.
The old white haired coot.
Fucking dead.