Awkward D.J.

Summer, 2002 / No. 8

Suppose you don’t have to prove yourself—prove

everything—all the time, to everyone

when you share your life some: take a lover,

a roommate, a classroom, a route for Meals

on Wheels, a wife, a child. See how it feels.

Easy to believe the loner capable

of any number of horrible acts:

from burning garages through to snuff films

and back beyond to committing simple acts

of occasionally pretty haiku.

How much a pirate radio superstar

are you—when the world can’t find you on air?

Then the crime you’re committing is more like

littering: or just another simple act

of occasionally pretty haiku—

Alone in his room

He played Smiths records and talked

Awkward D.J. between songs

Alone in his room

He imagined her living

Alone in her room

Or he hoped she was

Living. In her room. Alone.


Alone in his room

He dreamt the perfect outdoors

He plotted some things

A tree falls in trees

Deep in untended black shapes

Hiding in plain sight

One room. One city.

Deep in untended black night

Shapes. Hide in plain sight

Approaching shadow

Lapping up the western face

Thinking: tomorrow