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Joyce Peseroff

Source of the Positrons

A wild wind from pulsars or other monsters; dark matter; the black hole invited by King Canute; shotgun blamed at the prosecutor buried in a Crow mineshaft; the shiver after kissing, lightning; praise God, good dog, the child who eats all her broccoli; high blood, bone breakdown, the sugar, the water in lungs and about the heart; motherfuckers, bastards, bitches, cocksuckers, stupid pricks; starshine, song lines, dance dance revolution; raw film, negative to the electron’s positive even though an electron’s charge is negative—

accentuate it, love it, find why it’s everywhere, find it, find it; the bounce of light, gravity of mass-less masses; a tune in slo-mo, note bent from a Stratocaster, stray horn, or sounding whale; cosmic gizmo, gear grinding gear, squeal as the A train pulls into Port Authority; doors open, a harvest of souls falls to the platform rattling their dice-cups until the lame walk, the blind see, the wretched rise from their weep, abandon the couch, stretch, flap up the window shade, coo to a pigeon on the ledge, drink whole milk, dress, grab their keys and fly.


Joyce Peseroff

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