By Leonard Orr

Each time I vote, I pretend that this time
everything I hope for will take place, that
not only will everyone I vote for win,
but they will turn out more liberal than anyone
expected, that the evil half of the Supreme Court
will take a powder, wars will end, oil will die.
Every night, I visit your side of the bed
to pretend that you are just away for moment,
it is warm form you and you will rush back to
place your head back on the pillow beside mine,
my nose nuzzling into your hair, to breathe you in,
my arms around you while you push sleepily 
back into me, surrounded by my heat,
not fully waking by your brief absence,
and for some minutes I am whole again. 

Mark Kozelek - Gustavo
39 plays
Chris Bell - You and Your Sister
113 plays

Courtesy of Rattle.

Lou Reed - Tell It To Your Heart
53 plays


By Charlie Smith

    Terrible beds, soft beds, wily, elusive beds,
beds of half-grown boys, fey and trembling,
     dumped on their ear beds of traveling salesmen surprised,
girl beds and virginal young woman beds
     matronal expansively expressed beds, I think of these,
recalled to sleep, out of sleep into sleep,
     waked early, waked late at night remembering,
drunken beds, sopping watery beds, pissed-in beds,
     beds come to me, all I have slept in,
beds I have knelt beside and dreamed of,
     bench one foot wide for a bed in Saipan,
hay barn in Turkey bed, dawn like sherbet
     naked men stood up out of, trickling weedy beds,
greetings and good-byes from beds,
     sullen, imperious beds … there was always a bed,
place to lie down, if only for a pause, in jail
     or in the aisle of a bus, berths below decks
diesel smoke and topside typhoon,
     Pacific swells, trough and deep six beds for lost sailors,
mountain beds often cold and wet,
     sooty nights risen from bed drunk
whirling in the yard lie abed in grass
     or among tomato vines and springy corn
love gone from my bed
     love lost to another’s, searching the cold
fabrications for clues, bed stains
     and scented sheets, beds of humiliation
and scorn, shivering clothed in unheat until dawn
     friend appearing through white cloud said
Go now to the neighbors … hot bath like a bed,
     and beds of fern and moss
and pine boughs, beds in Istanbul Hotel plush
     and beds in Florence and golden Madrid,
southern beds and beds in New England tucked under quilts,
     cornfed beds and lit de cassis, and narrow bed of devotion,
bed of love, of endurance,
     bed of turmoil and surrender
and change slow to come,
     bed of low spoken phrases,
bed of form become style
     bed of California grape arbors
and outdoor beds and beds on porches
     and beds in back bedrooms where the crazy son died
beds in attics and in upper stories down long stone corridors
     beds that trembled and bunk beds
and beds without meaning
     beds in trees,
in grass, in fields of clover
     beds in fragrant lover’s arms,
beds multiplied into
     nights sleepless and disordered in beds,
into nights of confusion and dismay,
     of lust
of hatred and pride mixed in a sour beam
     of persistence, nights of fear,
nights of memory
     and applicable recall,
nights of kisses, nights of frankness
     passing for truth, nights of delightful smells,
nights on the river, by the sea, inland nights
     spoken of in hushed voices, nights by the wayside,
nights come to bed late for no reason,
     nights spent for a time sitting on the bathroom floor,
nights and days and the next night in bed
     recovering from serious illness, in beds without exits,
beds stepped bold up to, beds
     unfolding like mysteries, childhood beds,
the beds of adulthood and youth,
     Chinese beds, decent Norwegian beds,
Filipino tropical beds,
     stained beds, beds soaked in perfume, striped
and checkered beds, all night spent
     beside someone’s bed, beside beds of loved ones,
the bed my father died in burned the next day
     in a pit behind the house, my mother’s bed empty
for years, beds of my wives, beds of children
     raised from their beds and sent forth into the world,
soft and ample and undivided beds,
     nights lingering quietly in the mind,
beds you spoke of as we lay after supper calm in our bed
     listening to night come down around us,
settled and consonant, happy in our bed.