Poetry – 1, 5, 6


Photo by Twisted Root Studios

1, 5, 6 from the collection Love at California in Me or Me at California in Love, by Robin Wyatt Dunn


It’s funny that you knew that I was cold, because you were warming up. I never knew that I could be a man, or be a man who knew that he was cold, and liked it, his mind cooling down to California cold. I stand on the beach and see that the tide is him, because he is a force of nature, ready to sweep everything you knew away (with vengeance)


Cut me. Tell me, is it okay to weep when I hold your hand? Will that kill the man I have inside? Cut me so you’ll see the beast within, the one I keep on such long tether, who’s aware that every day that passes without teeth, means that I’m taming him too deep for words, and when I need him he will be asleep—


Cut me, because I need the ape to see that this is real. This is it. We worked it to a lather and we’re foaming for the tether to be re-attached. I break everything at last, I hold your hand. When I splash the sea with my cracked laugh—

I break everything at last and curse the worst was first, because I know it will return, and it will bring me deeper in, to the working of this stairwell spirals magnets and lurching epics—