By Peter Kline
Ich allein
lebe und leide und lärme.
I alone
live and suffer and howl.
—Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Blindman’s Song,” trans. Stephen Mitchell
1
Having been a lurker in dark corridors’
half-open doors,
a malingerer in booths, a swiveler of stools,
a cocksure cruiser of bad-liver bars in borrowed clothes,
I go where everyone goes
and I go unseen.
Here—take my hand and shake it.
Only I know where this hand has been.
4
I understand the way the killer works,
on three-week clocks.
A little itch, a little urge, a little ticklish hypothetical
then I splurge. And hustle to mop up.
To me it’s not just stroke. More
than sore knees from keyhole-peeping
the pussy floss its teeth.
It never happened if I don’t get caught.
6
While others get turned back, I pass,
but, passing, I grow less,
a blond john doe with a flinch and a wasted face.
I want new ways to be erased—
a righter lie, a stranger’s cut-or-kiss.
Someday I’ll pass right through
to someone else.
Peter Kline’s poetry has been honored with a Wallace Stegner Fellowship from Stanford University, the Morton Marr Poetry Prize from Southwest Review, and residency fellowships from the James Merrill House, the Amy Clampitt House, and the Kimmel Harding Nelson Foundation. His poems have appeared in Ploughshares, Poetry, Tin House, and other journals, and have been anthologized twice in the Best New Poets series. His first collection of poetry, Deviants, is forthcoming from Stephen F. Austin State University Press in the fall of 2013. He can be found online at www.peterklinepoetry.com.
Issue 1 | Fall 2013
The Traiguén Epidemic
Seven Strategies for Survival (in a small town)
Excerpt from The Weapon in Man
The Devouring Economy of Nature
Here the neighbor screams for Frankie
I’m waiting for you like waiting
Dear No. 2 Pencil, Decomposing in Whiskey
Excerpt from a Novel-in-Progress: La NENA in the TL
Eighth Grade Science: Darwin Et Cetera
The Apple