Question & Answer 2 – Kimmy Walters

Question 2

I’ve been told ghosts are cliché –
and I hear them squeaking messages into
steam on the windows.
It’s one of those days, Kimmy,
where I brew everybody’s coffee – while
watching all those photos
blend into a crema on the surface of my scars.
I want to watch him burn
an arc of disappointment
across the – false smile of my father’s fake teeth grin.
How do you leave
notes – Ouija – across
the depth of wasted genetics?
The nuances are in place, an owl in the corner
of a darkened room
and a bluebird in the heart of some junkie poet.
Yes, ghosts are cliché, but
at least mine have
the decency to haunt me in the daylight.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 2

I’m drinking coffee
that someone else made

because I like to be taken care of
for about 20 minutes at a time

and because lately I have struggled to
make anything for myself…
you might know this,
because it’s been months…

on the counter are
two ingredients requiring
only heat to become a meal,
but I am lying down

and they will stay ingredients forever

my friend died but she’s
far too practical to become
a ghost

which I admire in a certain way

I tried to imagine her as an old woman
her hair was gray
but the roots were dark

and she was smiling down at me
with something that looked like pity

– Kimmy Walters


Question & Answer 1 – Kimmy Walters

Question 1

Porquoi Mozart while Morricone conducts
a theatre in paradise? First trimester in A
major, completely static but for orchestral
compositions of Veneta, of fourteen weeks,
fourteen midnights, fourteen full moons.

Keep the unjust heart still, entwine hands
for the final proof of my love. Have you lit
censored film? Alfredo’s memories burnt
with The Firemen of Viggiú, fourteen weeks,
fourteen midnights, fourteen full moons.

Elena and Salvatore frozen in love without
the director’s revisions. Break F sharp minor
for a nervous D major. Find Palazzo Adriano
in the throws of maternity wards, where
even in winter I’ll be the brightest sun.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 1

it’s very hard to know anything
about the past and harder still
to encounter any new information about it

we can only puncture the dirt
looking for clues or
try to time travel

but most people fail to consider the linguistic
limitations of time travel

barely anyone can understand you
even when you’re not fifty or four hundred
years ago

like right now what do I have?

tiny number of french words
large number of english ones
none in italian
and I can’t read music either

if I were somewhere unfamiliar
in space or time
I’d have to draw fourteen lines
to indicate the length of a fortnight

I’d encourage each line to
represent a day somehow

if I can’t figure out how
maybe I should stop calling myself a poet

most people fail to consider that
history is made up of millions
of fortnights
one right after the other
it’s relentless

babies keep getting born directly
into them

it’s a messy business
il n’y a pas d’autre moyen

is that right?

– Kimmy Walters