EVENING WILL COME: A MONTHLY JOURNAL OF POETICS (ISSUE 3: MARCH 2011)

Lisa Fishman
Seven journal/notebook entries         (page 8)


VII. (fall 2010)

They were reading the second delirium when the bathtub overflowed and music appeared to be coming from the bathroom into the café

We wondered if Max does all the cooking and why Kate and Max have a truck
“Maybe they do things,” someone said and I felt I should know what he meant by that

Finding the cat’s tooth under the kitchen table this morning was creepy, it was polished and sharp, and James couldn’t find in the cat’s mouth where the tooth was missing

The people I most want to write to I don’t, as if waiting to write on paper or to see who they are

Dreaming this afternoon, once the first-grader’s birthday party at the liquor store was postponed until next week, I scaled a fish in a photograph as part of a story

They were different in the evening, the men and the women and the fish

We listened to the picture also which is hard to describe so there was cause and effect to start

A little music came written in the explanation

The egg cup was an eye cup, we were corrected in the thrift shop

The tin pail had a thin sail—then it was a strange boat

Talking made them cheerful and nervous by turns, and you close up the white-space or add it perhaps in the spirit of adventure



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