Guy Pettit
My Life's Work

You think

I’ll talk to just anyone

It’s amazing

How beautiful

The man in the tree


His open hands

He cleans up

He’ll nod


That’s what I like

Why I’ll talk to anyone

About the president.

Or more likely

I’ll make them talk

About the president

With someone else.


I want to hold the hand of modesty.

I want to hold the hand of modesty

But I don’t and I deny myself

The strange

Ancient carriage


Loss of memory

Behind the

Beauty of trees

Always yelling


I always yell at you

I want to stop


And yelling always

To another planet.


And I am alarmed.

Believe me because I am.

If you find an egg in the air

That is my alarm.




My Life's Work

Cover up everything

With your friendliness

The most tiring part of you

Put on a tape or a record

And do it again

Except this time

Without thinking

Except this time

Travel to every country

In the world before you turn 30

Only to return to me

Exhausted and sick of the world

Confused about its origin

Afraid of its films

And its short films

Its photographs

Terrified by its sports

Ruined by its forests

By its deserts

Alone and lonely

But very clean

As clean as the cleanest part of this world

Happy to be alive

And thankful for being an animal

With a long average life span

Getting longer

Enough to enter the terror-dome

And to love unconditionally

To wear bunny ears because

You know your place

It’s in the shower

That holy vacuum of devastation

Turning you into some dried and porous piece of coral reef

But with a beautiful license

To drive or to make concessions that will keep you from the road

And your agency

As an agent of love

In the community you’ve created

Because that’s good you see

Now explain to me how to do something simply

And how to make a sound

An admirer wants to know



My Life's Work

A color is evocative only to me

And my sense of distance

In the most literal sense

It means I feel nothing in color

When I look for a friend


I thought for a moment yesterday

To act on a benelovent feeling I had

For someone I love

They are quiet and imply a quotation

Imagine if I gave them a back rub

You might stand next to the material

That supports the world and say

That’s the last thing I’d want

And I’d say

A young man warned us of anxiety

Basically, a fundamental explosiveness

By saying nothing

But I’m afraid to say his name

I’m afraid to say anyone’s name

Someone named Meghan

It’s not her name

I’ve never mentioned her

Or to her

That I’m colorblind

Which gives me an advantage

In detecting certain camouflages


Please don’t tell me that you’re

Going to smash your head into


Only an hour ago

We were watching a movie

I’d rather not hear you say that

It’s directive, shifting my location

To a totally nameless place

Because of what you said

In yellow plastic on the beach in Japan

Or in the blinking blue lights

The wind could create something for the first time

Out of nothing

And a magazine might pick it up

And I’d want you to be there

As a friend without a name

Or with one should that matter, which I want it to.


Maybe one day I’ll stop being afraid

I’ll be sure and I’ll say

This is what it’s like to go extinct

You sense patterns

And then you lose your sense of patterns.