Full Text

Once when I passed East Fourth Street off First Avenue,
I think it was in early fall and I had a small hole
in the shoulder of my white shirt, and another on
the back–I looked just beautiful. There was a
whole moment in the 70s when it was beautiful
to have holes in your shirts and sweaters.
By now it was 1981, but I carried that 70s style
around like a torch. There was a whole way of
feeling about yourself that was more European
than American, unless it was American around
1910 when it was beautiful to be a strong
starving immigrant who believed so much
in herself and she was part of a movement
as big as history and it explained the
hole in her shirt. It’s the beginning
of summer tonight, and every season has
cracks through which winter
or fall might leak out. The most perfect
flavor of it, oddly in June. Oh remember
when I was an immigrant. I took a black
beauty and got up from the pile of poems
around my knees and just had too much
energy for thought and walked over to
your house where there was continuous
beer. Finally we were just drinking
Rheingold, a hell of a beer. At the
door I mentioned I had a crush on both
of you, what you say to a couple. By
now the kids were in bed. I can’t
even say clearly now that I wanted
the woman, though it seemed to be
the driving principle then, wanting
one of everything. I was part of
a generation of people who went to
the bars on 7th street and drank the
cheap whiskey and the ale on tap and dreamed
about when I would get you alone. Those
big breasts. I carried slim notebooks which only
permitted two or three-word lines. I need you.
“Nearing the Horse.” There was blood in all my
titles, and milk. I had two bright blue pills
in my pocket. I loved you so much. It was
the last young thing I ever did, the end of
my renaissance, an immigration into my
dream world which even my grandparents
had not dared to live, being prisoners
of schizophrenia and alcohol, though
I was lovers with the two. The beauty
of the story is that it happened.
It was the last thing that happened
in New York. Everything else happened
while I was stopping it from happening.
Everything else had a life of
its own. I don’t think I owe
them an apology, though at least
one of their kids hates my guts.
She can eat my guts for all
I care. I had a small hole in
the front of my black sleeveless
sweater. It was just something
that happened. It got larger
and larger. I liked to put
my finger in it. In the month
of December I couldn’t get
out of bed. I kept waking
up at 6PM and it was Christmas
or New Year’s and I had
started drinking & eating. I remember
you handing me the most beautiful
red plate of pasta. It was like your cunt
on a plate. I met people in your house
even found people to go out and fuck,
regrettably, not knowing about
the forbidden fruit. I forget
what the only sin is. Somebody
told me recently. I have so
many holes in my memory. Between
me and the things I’m separated
from. I pick up a book and
another book and memory
and separation seem to
be all anyone writes
about. Or all they
seem to let me read.
But I remember those
beautiful holes on
my back like a
beautiful cloak
of feeling.

In the poem “Holes”, Eileen Myles recounts their love affair with a married couple and how their feelings were involved in the relationship. They begin the poem by describing a small hole in one of their shirts and they “looked just beautiful”. Their relationship with the couple is new, and the excitement and sexual attraction is very strong. Myles even says “I loved you so much” when referring to the woman who is one half of the couple. However, things take a turn abrupt turn when Myles becomes less clear with what is happening in the relationship. The relationship seems to end when they state “It was the last thing that happened in New York.” They refuse to expose details or take responsibility for the loss of love, saying that they “didn’t think I owe them an apology, though at least one of their kids hates my guts.” At this point, Myles describes enlarging the holes, in the same way children anxiously bite their names or adults bounce their leg before a big job interview. Myles’ then reveals what broke up the relationship, saying that meeting people at the couple’s house introduced them to other lovers. Myles’ claims to have forgotten the idea that you shouldn’t sleep with your lovers’ friends, and now uses the word “holes” to describe the holes in their memory. They conclude the poem by again referring to the holes in the t-shirts and sweaters, but this time describing them as a "beautiful cloak of feeling."

Throughout this poem, and a few other Myles’ poems, how they present themselves often how they reflect how they are feeling about things internally. At the beginning of the relationship, Myles feels beautiful and fresh as the relationship blossoms, but as things start to go downhill, the emotional wear and tear of the relationship also begins to take physical toll on Myles’ appearance, as she begins to pick at the holes in the shirt as if they were the issues in the relationship. Later in the poem, Myles’ compares these holes to the wholes in her memory, making a references to how the holes symbolize the mistakes she made that ultimately ended the relationship. However, the final five lines of the poem reveal that they view their gruff, imperfect physical appearance as a veil to hide their inner feelings from the outside world.

In an interview with Vice, Myles’ confirms that their love of holey t-shirts was more than just poetic. They describe their favorite piece of clothing as a tattered, sixteen-year-old Banana Republic t-shirt that they purchased at the beginning of a new relationship with someone thirty years their younger. They state:

This personal reflection lines up perfectly with the thoughts that they share in “Holes”. While Myles views clothing as empowering, they are closely tied to the experiences that they have while wearing them. The characteristics of the clothing , whether it be fresh and new, or tattered full of gaping holes, define that time in Myles’ life and their inner feelings.

"Holes" by Eileen Myles

“When we began dating, this teeshirt became a feature. When you start dating someone, there's a stepping up in the buying of new clothes. You look at your clothes and they're looking old and sad and fucked up. You want to be this new person, so I think it was in this moment that I bought the teeshirt… The fact that I was just at the gym working out in this teeshirt makes me feel like I own this time. I look good and I am good and things are OK.”

Analysis

Full Vice Interview