My voice is a zoo right now for this,
and this paces very much inside it,
it would like very much to escape
and eat hot blood again and go home,
and right down to the restless way
I walk I am an argument against zoos.

(patricia lockwood, from "what is the zoo for what," new yorker 10.28.13; her second collection, motherland fatherland homelandsexuals, will be out in june)


uncle paul said...

J. was struck by that poem too.

lauren said...

you know how i feel about t-lockz. reading her poetry makes me a better reader of poetry (and makes me want to write some again, maybe?).

joe and i met an irish bartender this weekend, mitchell, who whistled along with belle and sebastian songs for a very long time. he'd lived in san francisco when we had, and we talked awhile about how sinister in particular makes us feel that we're twenty-two and driving along the panhandle, driving along bay street, driving along portola.