Four Poems by Susie Timmons

BOMB 26 Winter 1989
026 Winter 1988 89
 Stephen Ellis, Untitled, drypoint and acquatint etching from portfolio, Japanese Gothic, 1988. Published by Alfred Kren, Cologne. Courtesy of Lorence Monk Gallery.

Stephen Ellis, Untitled, drypoint and acquatint etching from portfolio, Japanese Gothic, 1988. Published by Alfred Kren, Cologne. Courtesy of Lorence Monk Gallery.

On the Daily Monument

Lookouts posted on either end of the street
my sole objective is to
visit you before you change your address

I used to want to be closer, now I want to be
closer too, as in “closerness”

deliver new framework, dispense
with retrograde behaviors
how curly hair is organized innocence
grandma’s persian lamb
cloud sails out over sea, independent
ship afloat on          mirror of         enough


on out over sea*

    hen exit
please do       ass
in front of    us

sound nature, leaden authenticity haunts fragments
shattered neon, one a.m.
frail plea for the daily monument
crunching underfoot

quiet room, I want to be clear


resemble soda pop,       shoot
cherrie  pits  at taxi  cabs

east river enters my head through my nose

     looking into your eyes I feel like a voyeur

         the happy taste of an orange explodes in my mouth

sign on wall,           infantilism
when I hear healing mentioned I think of band-aid smell
& poisonous green disinfectant soap

be still, retreat, so you can turn misery into hair ornaments
or wipe catfood bits from off counter


The Plane is Landing

I refuse to depart from my companion

the radar will be out for another ten hours

many small electronic parts, transistors, resistors
Easter Basket

furious rapping at the shutter becomes

there was always more surface on the other side of town

How heavenly to clear the overgrowing weeds
to enter and say in a voice clear and loud
I Want.

Maybe when he hears I came looking for him he’ll call me
but he heard I like him, and he didn’t call.

I hate and despise your ridiculous girlfriend, I’m
never going to defer to the needs of a stranger again.
Shame shame shame on me.


Grecian Formula

every drop falling drop
is landing on a designated spot
implied religious doctrine
who’s watching, who knows.

Boss Romaine

scraps of lettuce in wet cartons
     heaped tragically on the sidewalk

you’re staring at a small point
between my eyes, or the bulletin board
in a mere routine to evoke intense emotion
steadfast desire.

an iron eagle rose and spread its wings then
crumpled, convulsed.

Muscles falling all around in great clumps
of lavender delight, the Spanish soul torn asunder

a mouth that has forgotten the difference
between kissing and eating

love slave in tube sox.



Days are short
windows are cold
thoughts of love
go round and round
in my head

they say
the man is a bee,
the woman a flower
but I think you and me
are like a train station in the sun

Susie Timmons lives and writes in New York City. Currently, she is working on a book (as yet untitled).

Three Poems by Ruth Danon
Tony Tasset 02

Originally published in

BOMB 26, Winter 1989

Jon Robin Baitz, David Cronenberg, Harry Mathews, Richard Martin, Peter Ackroyd, Annette Messager, Javier Vallhonrat, Jodi Long, Christian Boltanski, and Kenji Fujita.

Read the issue
026 Winter 1988 89