Category: Short Story
Slurry
all in my head
is all in my head
I still catch myself
screwing up my eyes
in the mirror, afraid
to connect deeply, even
with myself. I sit
down in mirrored elevators
avoid mirrored people
which are all people
when you give off light
how easy it would be
to have no light at all
how hard I’ve worked to
extinguish that light
but you don’t pour fire
on fire. you don’t kill light
or outrun it
you are it
you are the place where light
converges, swirling into a pool
you are scrying’s purpose
the loose hands
over letters
you are there now. get it?
there is nothing more to
create. it is created
there is only that which
you will destroy
or won’t
to my Brother’s Spirit
at first, my courage
was naive
it couldn’t have imagined
so it led with that
now my courage
feels old
no longer looking
no longing for something to happen
like Mom said – I knew
there was something
more interesting about us
and I felt it
now I couldn’t care less
I want to live
as long as we can
in case we were wrong
Fear of Dying
I beg the stars to move –
that is, to have died already
I’m still uncertain of their distance
now more than ever
what would happen if I ate one?
would it kill me? if I sleep
facing the sky, will it breathe me?
if I get bit, will I die?
I am unsure about so much
what does a virus want?
which is the universe
and which is the galaxy?
is it cicadas? or static on
spirit headlamps? or
feverish kazoo music?
Denis? Denis?
could be just a bug
am I doing the right thing?
where do I place
the needs that could kill me?
Nietzsche’s Sister’s Cat
I wonder if the dog, while
holding its mouth open for the cat
ever has thoughts of crushing it
flash images
like a photo continues
outside its frame, does the dog
see itself continue?
does the cat suspect?
suspect is a strong word
surely the dog is not to blame for
seeing. is seeing thinking?
neither one is doing
until it is done. so the cat is cautious
the dog inviting – its neck
thicker than its head
the skull in plates
built for this relief
sure, the cat will trust
the dog one day, but only after
it has never happened
Yell Fuck at Canoe Rental
geese scream hate
over a banjo being played
inside a trailer full
of life-jackets
the geese are so angry
they lose themselves
feathers in disarray off them
dropping two at a time
soon there will be
more feathers on
the ground
than on the birds themselves
you could build a new bird
imagine the feathers cleaned
and colored for crafts
kids attaching them
to their shoes, banjo music
lifting them into the sky
where light is adjacent colors
the music plays on speaker
it will never stop
but eventually the geese do
they scream their necks
into collapse, then
disperse, like light
onto the blacktop
squirming
the light is the same light
as always. we’ve had it
this whole time. it has been
everything since and will be
everything else
it extends beyond the prism
of our atmosphere. it comes from
a fucking star – how can there
be hate?
it is only the brain making
of light what it will
the brain which has never felt
the feeling of light on its skin
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