Jeff Whitney
Note to Pessoa
from his resting place in Lisbon
Now we are here.
Downstairs, mass convenes
in the house of bones.
In one room a hatchet
the three colors of desire
suspended in glass.
What should I call you?―
Alvaro, Alberto, Master
of Seven Faces? Friend?
There will be grieving
surely, a jar to collect us,
but today I ate ice cream and stared out
at faint points on the rim.
A man offered me pills
and I ate “autêntico” food,
thinking of you, the many yous, my fingers
jangling coins in a pocket.
I believed almost all of them.
Jeff Whitney was born in Texas but grew up in northern California. He is a graduate of the University of Montana’s MFA program. His poems have appeared online or in print in such places as Barnstorm, Sugar House Review, Whiskey Island Review, and Verse Daily. He lives in South Korea, where he teaches ESL and plays midfield for Changwon Wednesday F.C.
Return to January 2013 Edition
from his resting place in Lisbon
Now we are here.
Downstairs, mass convenes
in the house of bones.
In one room a hatchet
the three colors of desire
suspended in glass.
What should I call you?―
Alvaro, Alberto, Master
of Seven Faces? Friend?
There will be grieving
surely, a jar to collect us,
but today I ate ice cream and stared out
at faint points on the rim.
A man offered me pills
and I ate “autêntico” food,
thinking of you, the many yous, my fingers
jangling coins in a pocket.
I believed almost all of them.
Jeff Whitney was born in Texas but grew up in northern California. He is a graduate of the University of Montana’s MFA program. His poems have appeared online or in print in such places as Barnstorm, Sugar House Review, Whiskey Island Review, and Verse Daily. He lives in South Korea, where he teaches ESL and plays midfield for Changwon Wednesday F.C.
Return to January 2013 Edition