Negotiations begin and end
with the quality of a person’s
eyes and hands. I can inhale
all my exhales in glances
toward the chance of new
encounters. A reality becomes
a realization as honking horns
on 5th Avenue behave chaotically,
like a lone autumn leaf caught mid-
gravitational, having sweaty,
inconsolable sex with the wind
for days until the sidewalk, cab-top,
building ledge, and shoulder pad
are only the teetering span of resting
places before a whole new definition
of copulation. No. Make comparisons
more aligned with the bouncing
up and down lines of maturing bonds,
loans, and investment holdings.
This is our lust. These are our world’s
new talisman for longing. Love
is so different, though. Love is
no transaction. Love is unabusable.
The harder we trade for love and
admiration the further its rewards retreat.
Each of us has to believe there’s no such thing
as love, which is true for only us, once we misuse
and destroy it. The bells chime. The breaths
regret our eternities. I do not exist. I can’t.
I do not exist in not existing.
–
Kurt Cole Eidsvig is a visual artist and poet whose work spans pop poetry and mixed media art. He holds an MFA from The University of Montana and is the author of five books. His work has appeared in Slipstream, Hanging Loose, Borderlands, and Whitehot Magazine. Eidsvig has received awards from The Warhol Foundation/Creative Capital and the Massachusetts Cultural Council. He has taught at UMASS Boston, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, and is a member of AICA.
