What She Said to Me

She said:

The line
breaks make
all the fucking difference.

She said:

I'm so sick of poets
extolled for standing still
or doing nothing
with such great skill.

She said:

Don't worry 'bout me,
baby.

I got nothing to give.

She said:

This ain't no down
the throat drink
I'm asking for.

She said:

Merry Christmas,
bitch.

Buy This Rare Edition of THE BATTLEFIELD WHERE THE MOON SAYS I LOVE YOU

Seattle, WA & Fayetteville, Arkansas: Mill Mountain Press / Lost Roads, No. 7-12, 1977.  First Edition. Softcover.  Very Good +.

First Printing. A Very Good+ 
copy of Stanford's magnum opus,

published the year before he committed suicide.

A 542-page stream-of-consciousness poem,

written in one sentence. This copy has a section

torn from the half-title page, as if to write a note

to Stanford himself! But it is gently read.

(Oh, that all our spines would be

gently read as this copy of Stanford's magnum opus!)

The spine has vertical creases and there is something crossed

out in marker on the inside rear cover,

but overall (and despite the flaws)

the book is in very clean, collectible condition.

A cult

favorite

among poets and slowly

gaining broader recognition after the 2000 reprinting.

This book is quite scarce and rarely comes

(or stays)

on the market.

Additional photos available upon request.

Shaking the Candy Tree

The girls jumping rope sang

I had a little bird.

Her name was Enza.

I opened the window

and influenza.

When my mother took sick

I wanted to crawl in bed with her,

but it wasn't aloud, don't you see.

Billy Sunday sang

Let's pray down this

epidemic of sin.

And there was fun in that for me,

until it became too painful.

The mailman brought the flu to our town.

Momma's fever rose so high

her hair turned white

and fell out.

I kid you not.

She opened her eyes,

and it was daylight.

She opened them again,

and it was night.

Better to do the wrong thing,

my father said,

than nothing.

When my mother died,

the shine went out of everything.

You know this epidemic,

though you have forgotten what to call it.

Jimmie's not here

is what my best friend's mom said. 

Where is he? I said.

Let your mother tell you, she said.

For the first time

and forever

I understood that we are not safe.

Nobody is safe.

You know what I mean,

but you don't remember its name.

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