A few notes on a misprinted poem by Laura Jensen
What slips from me is what
slips from me. Slippage
is the hinge on which my life
hinges. When the text
emerges with a mark missing,
I kiss it. The error ablates
the face I was making
when making it. Eros, a mistake.
When I faced it, I lost it.
When it slipped from me,
it slipped from me, and I let it
slip from me: errant tear.
