The Baby

I want to have things
that don't need me, or anybody
else. Things independent of
approval, of yours or mine. Found


things, things without motives
or reasons. Things closed off
from us, things that escape
interruption, things that move


independently. I want
no responsibility. I want to be left
alone to enjoy, or not, the day
or night.
          But who
will sow the fields? Or cut
the wheat? Or how will we eat, or how
can we do without things to hold
us: a book or name


and shade, a cup of water a
couple sitting on a park bench
in silence: nothing to say
again. Escape? If so


so what. I am still here. Tell me
who I am, if you want
me to be you, or you
too, can be me and


leave the table, not a word
or name for it. Instead, show me
how to hold my fork. This way, resting
in your hand.




Valentine

Are you cold?
What are you reading?
What isn't directed at me


I'm afraid could be
for someone else
for you.




Lecture
        Everyone

can leave
confused, and leave
a hole for us to happen


into. Here, for example, no
I am not good enough: I end
nothing, I am
enough.




Tyler Carter is a recent recipient of an MFA from the Brown Literary Arts Program and resides in Providence, R.I. His most recent work "Egg Breakfast" is forthcoming on Horse Less Press.



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