LETTER TO THE WOMAN WHO STOPPED WRITING ME BACK

I wanted you to be the first to know - Harper & Row has agreed to publish my collected letters to you.

The tentative title is Exorcist in the Gym of Futility.

Unfortunately I never mailed the best one, which certainly was one of a kind.

A mutual friend told me that when I quit drinking, I surrendered my identity in your eyes.

Now I m just like everybody else, and it s so funny, the way monogamy is funny, the way someone falling down in the street is funny.

I entered a revolving door and emerged as a human being. When you think of me is my face electronically blurred?

I remember your collarbone, forming the tiniest satellite dish in the universe, your smile as the place where parallel lines inevitably crossed.

Now dinosaurs freeze to death on your shoulder.

I remember your eyes: fifty attack dogs on a single leash, how I once held the soft audience of your hand.

I ve been ignored by prettier women than you, but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence so far, without spilling a drop.

Jeffrey McDaniel: the forgiveness parade.

'my idea of courtship was tapping jane's addiction lyrics in morse code on your window at three a.m., whiskey doing push-ups on my breath' [#]

und wenn man jeffrey mcdaniel mal gehört hat, dann hört man seine stimme beim lesen seiner gedichte. herzzerreissend wunderbar.

danke, den kannte ich noch nicht. hier ist eine halbstündige lesung von ihm.