Ben Mirov – Three Poems

Best modern poets

Rhyming poems about love


Ben Mirov

Three Poems

Blue Blue is the Sky Above the Labor of Faders


             Blue blue is the sky above the labor of sailors…
                                                            – Tristan Tzara

I am interested in things Tristan Tzara would say. I can write a
poem a day and no one is looking. I give one of them my favorite
shirt. The other I kiss and kiss with one earphone. It gives me a
power I can only describe as flakes. Some chicken falls on the
carpet. I forget. Too much computer time. There are shadows in
my head with breasts. Come see my “roof.” Trees are in the sky
and a basilica. I am interested in the things Tristan Tzara could
say. No one home. We tell each other nothing about ourselves and
go home happy. There’s no point in coffee. I was never in love
with your cat. I never come to this bar. We buy two tall-boys and
chips. She grows quiet and dances badly. I vow once again to never
return. Something pulls me to bed. People are waiting for me on
the other side. My secret is house music. I intend to become myself.


My Liars

I spend all day looking at other people’s writing. Is this a blithe
gash that was intended? I grab beer. He’s hit me in the head and I
turn around. I see Taqueria in red neon. Flying over the city
makes power. Jared lets me steer. I can’t try on clothes anymore.
Even if I know she’s not right, I think of us on a bike. I’m reading
Crowd. I can’t catch Joseph and Bella jumps on my back and this
means something. I cut up missionary pamphlets with the best of
intentions. Waiting in the morning for my hair to look right, I get
sad. My work is an obvious cloud. Every door in the cloud is
locked. Eating with the kids, I tell them nothing about my life.
Later a man named Malcom calls.


Sample Edits

We work in a room with the blinds down. You can eat pizza all
the time. I remember swimming in the ocean with her. I pass a yellow
cable over the coffee. Two weeks and she touched me there.
Coming from the East Bay is thinking time. I won’t run into you.
Promises about feelings are turquoise. Cigarettes are tiny men, not
women. I bet you’re cold. We make-out against some graffiti.
Poems can’t be typed. Other times, I wonder what he’s like in bed.
I buy noodles at midnight. Couples on the street piss me off, then
make me happy. What’s your trick for going to sleep.

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