Tagged: the Body
Grass
the moment wretching
becomes embarassment, or
forgetfulness begetting
regret
I must purge before I’m full
like eating grass
use it down to its wick
and need more
get more. expend more
smoke it. they call to me
they are soul choice
says the non-soul
so avoidable
so unnoticed, so
they don’t break the skin
as to them
every pour
is a great cathedral door
my eyes like stained glass
manipulating the light into
church light
dried blood and piss, the
yellow-green of flowers
shoved into books
everything is a mistake
your bouquet should have been
grass, the animals
should have been quiet
The Most Humane Way Possible
I can see faces
in the trees again
their beards covering
their mouths their eyes
the spaces of absence
where the grapevine
hasn’t quite
blanked me out of view
we’ve been through so much
they’re expecting a list
but I couldn’t I can’t
I’m wondering about the farm
you adopted two hens
but must cull
five to six muscovies
the most humane way
is not the easiest
almost never
I wonder if
it’s a huge mistake
then remind myself
that we slept well together at
my parents’
we bought a car
we survived an abortion, an
assault, a freeze, a virus
all of which during
we wanted to pull so tight
like netting and a cone
and pass through our
rib cages trying but failing
to catch us, breaking
the skin like pin feathers
I must provide life
that is what goes on the table
you must provide love
but I think mine goes first
I must work on balance
I picture cairns, but
not that something
way more considerate
– mindful of
underwater bugs
maybe she’s here
and that’s why you can’t sleep
I would have loved
to have seen you pregnant
maybe it’s the house
it’s probably me
what’s the most humane
way possible
upside down into a bucket
but we slept so well at
my parents’ loved
so well in the trailer
had options
overcame those options
like mountain climbers
but on soft, little heads
we must attract
the type of good
you can’t feel good about
but it’s what we’d want
if we had the other
Scully
what part of now will be
preserved? The lights over
the river, hovering then taking off
the donkey under the tarp
the constant offering from cats
of mice, lizards, once a
painted bunting, once a snake while
I was masturbating
Once I saw the cat stalking
the ducks – when they see him
they stand up
he saunters off like this
was never his intention
my intention can be unruly
I broadcast in wide gestures
or none at all
Mulder
be careful with the moon
as it is not your ally
your coat beguiles formal
black with green, purple
you dance first
walk with your hips
seem to be most alive
when others can’t see you
so what are you now?
ghost alive
like a cat
overwhelmed enough to bite
then immediately regretful
embarassed, therefore
more likely to bite
it envenomates the feeling
I’m not sure which is which
whether the light
is actually the light
or the lack thereof
AB –
the truth is
I don’t want to talk
to anybody
the end suits me
when she called
I lied and leveraged
something very real
when you’re around
I don’t know to feel
because I feel great
when you’re gone
it’s like
I have so much
catching up
to do
Creation Story 2
I was meant to give myself
entirely to something
by now
but each time I say it
my face seems smaller
my beard like ivy on a wall
I am both good and
bad things pretended
but in nature
I am exonerated
I have a cat’s
imagination
under the table
this is how I forgive myself
to build without
touching the mountain
to set up all the little
people
I was meant to give myself
entirely to something
by now… can it be you?
you put a blanket
on the window, close off
all rooms to this room
your jar lids pop
in adjacent counties
ice crumbles into the sky
our breath remains obvious
counted
we lower our portions
beyond the curtain
is a frozen planet inside
a warm vent
another chance to make a life
to remake life in our image
a ball of heat
the twelve minute race
however long
we must hold this embrace
Ophelia
always interrupt me for
animals or ghosts
food-related reasons
bathroom
a sound you
hear the car making
my exit
a song on the radio in
need of lifting
or a heavy thing
land upon
my head
wake me up with tears
if I am cold
slipped like petals
on the sheets
like grief
drawn by a fly
or a bird
hiding its hurt
stop me at the edge
if I get too close
hold my body in
point me towards
the beginning
and set me down
Mink Teddy Bear
to exist beyond
the worst
having happened
is not the end
of fear
but a full lap
the kids will
often
bring me things
one brings a mermaid
I take its
temperature
one brings
a transformer
it lights up
another brings
a bear that is so soft
it feels alive
maybe it is alive
we’ll keep
its secret
it hides
in the child’s
arms
slips
behind
her voice
around the breath
beneath
the door
mutating
undulate along
the air
like a virus –
evading its end
by
pretending
it’s
not real
Summer 20-22
I feel strongly that
I haven’t done enough
is that today?
always?
humanity beats down
without context
the sun is so hot
it is winter, effectively
a stay-at-home order
a vivid and
continuous temperature
contemptuous integers
I could go back and forth
but I’ve let the dog run
I’ve taken off my shirt
in the early hours
survived a little longer
which is enough
though I know it isn’t
we’ve survived long enough
to know that it isn’t, or
survived past it, or
consumed it
in an act of survival
what a strange threat this is
when those threatened
need more than just their lives
when the monster eats
frivolity, and I reek of it
when our spirits
sneak out at night to touch
our bodies too hot to hold
Pressing Medicine
I do one, maybe
two things wrong &
I can’t function – my
stomach is the rag
my ribs are the glass jar
inside awash with medicine
how much does it take
to twist like that?
what do you do with
the rest?
black in the dark, black
red in the light
it is left
in the margin, discarded
white space that
oblierates, white winter
that proliferates
how can it be so many
when it is also each one?