Three Poems by Nate Pritts

UNTITLED (10/25/2011)

I see you open the door.
Many seconds before
you walk through it
the rush of autumn breeze
carries your scent to me:
raspberries, the quiet
of your hair. I use my receipt
for a bookmark so I can
remember myself & my desires
into the future. Everything
is bright. The clouds, the leaves,
the air itself saturated.
I feel better about myself
when there is a lot of mail
to sort though I complain
about the catalogs & ads.
Even the junk gives me
something to do. I can’t stop
thinking about sonnets.
When I put something together
I tend to jump around or
move from task to task.
In this way, dinner gets made,
the clothes folded & put away.
I write out a few more sentences
to help my ideas make sense.
I can’t think things into clear
shapes anymore. I am too distracted
to kiss you right. I see through
most words because I want to
understand them but sometimes
I stop & just look. I pretend
to concentrate so I don’t have to
wave at my neighbors
who are all smiling & expectant
& don’t understand. I read
the billboards of political candidates
scattered on the lawns
& which demand my attention.
They all say the same thing.
It’s hard to be brave when
there’s so much we don’t know.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

UNTITLED (10/29/2011)

I use Google Maps to see the Charles River

better since it was raining too hard

when I crossed it for real

& there were so many cars that I had to

keep my eyes focused         trained

on the objective. I want to be perfect

held whole & forever in one moment.

I zoom in close to see the water

click the plus sign & drag it around to look

from both sides of the bridge on my screen

& then click the minus sign

to get a different perspective on all the streets

that run around it because I don’t know where

I really am / where I’ve really been in my own actual

past. I think about living in a different house

as a different person. I really am happiest

when imaging something implausible.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

UNTITLED (12/28/2011)

Sweetness         even the parking meters can be

horrible / silent in the snow & full of authority

reminding me that even the images I hold

in my head were put there by the crush of want

that holds this whole society hostage

        by this season that forgot how to start.

The future is in the air. Take me empty

I sing to the frozen plants / the world

caught by surprise in all this cold. People

in their cars turn their faces to me

before they look back to the road. I keep singing

louder.         Sweetness     I would lay down

in the park & be happy if you would smile

in my direction         if you would smile

under the only lights left in a lonely night.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nate Pritts Nate Pritts

Nate Pritts is the author of five books of poetry, most recently Sweet Nothing which Publishers Weekly describes as “both baroque and irreverent, banal and romantic, his poems […] arrive at a place of vulnerability and sincerity.” He also writes & draws the minicomic THERE WILL BE NOTHING LEFT, is the founder & principal editor of H_NGM_N, an online journal & small press & lives in upstate New York.

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