Tagged: the Humans
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?
Why Don’t You Say My Name as Much Anymore
my parents would say Terri – I mean your mother
or David – I mean your father
as if I wouldn’t know who they meant. Or like
they were each hiding some Terris or Davids
we weren’t supposed to know about. I never really
suspected, but I would listen sometimes
put a cup to the wall in my closet
that connected to their bathroom
I’d listen to my mother and father spending time
with Terri and David – coordinating spits
in their sinks – starting the shower for the other –
flushing the toilet. sometimes I’d hear the long lighter
snapping its fingers at the candle. sometimes
I’d hear the tub water. they’d say their lover’s name
– serious business in the house that holds
their children. they must have been in on it together
sometimes I’d fall asleep in the closet listening
my nicer pants and things hanging close to my face
curled up against bags with my name
adorned on them, a clear cup along the carpet
Candida
your heart will hurry
to the places it’s been
a note tied to its leg
what if the quiet place
in your mind vanishes, or
worse, is given to someone else?
for now though, this is us
this is a city
it shows us its spirits
it calls when the grass
is too long, stops calling
when the grass dies off from sun
where the ice cream truck
does circles, donuts
do your ears hang low
and the occasional BOOIIIOIIINNGG
or HEELLOOO?! we lay
in its sound, having just licked
each other, perpetual lawn mower
I guess the gears of the world
dairy for the diligent whackers
and every house, broken in
on champagne, with its windows
smiling through a baby
under expansion, like most things
built to withstand fire
bison, winter, crop
shortages and floods
termites, outages of power
the way things are
underneath, before eventually
there is a die off
a long low moan without
complaint, the REMEMBER ME
of life that has taken hold
bugs in both dimensions
a flattened Earth holding
more of us, all of us at once
if she is trying to say something
we wouldn’t know
she is muffled. so
we move forward, certain that the
best thing we can do with our lives
is replace them
Orion
If you lay in snow
and I lay in snow
even with the same moon
as headboard, the electricity
wouldn’t travel, the water
too densely packed
I feel that way today
both in our underwear
separately
you walking from Planned Parenthood
to yoga, me having worn
the wrong clothes to work
now bathing in the spillway
we have no gas for water
we named a cat Fuel
each man presents
his best self, the
6-month awoken blood stem
you unlock something in me, he says
it was not there before
you make me want to be a better man
a star falls on the roof
by definition not that great
of a star, but close
men burn their tongues
try to recall
what they were doing before
just to have you say it
have you pull it out
the long steel draw
an approachable temperature
a star just being friendly
holding it
lighting their eyes
but stars are forever away
maybe they have died already
Voyager 1
baby birds cry
to expose the red insides
of their mouths
so that the parents
can deliver food
any sound they make
is just screaming
it attracts possums
raccoons
we sing, we scream
in both joy & anger
we certainly cry – in
everything we say
we are saying
Here I am
Come get me
like baby birds
preferring the company
of whatever’s out there
to nothing
The Earth Two
when a child picks up something
delicate she often crushes it
or pulls it off the tree
her hand
may as well be
a tube to the brain
the insides of worm
and aloe vera
upward
each first contact
a benevolent ownership
so nothing bad will happen
no, because I
will put it back
such confidence
the minnow, the grape-like
clutch of frog eggs
especially the flower
how do you explain
what is alive?
once we killed savages
I find myself saying
if you leave it, it
will get bigger
as in
there will be
more of it for you
“..finding a second Earth is not a matter of if, but when.”
-Thomas Zurbuchen, NASA’s Science Mission Directorate
Cain
the first person lives
who will be 1000
as once, the first person
to enter space
was alive
born of that starry substance
to be returned
as once
the first woman
who would
circumnavigate the world
and the first man
who would fly, both
head
over heels
and the first person
who would
sit atop
the animal
how odd
that must
have been
when suddenly the
other animals
failed
to recognize either
and were consumed
like the first person
who would kill
another. how tight
will he squeeze
her finger
how strong
could he be alive
somewhere
the first to rule, the first
with more
than he needs
and who needs more
as once
the first child was born
who would leave
its mother
where does one go
if not
to new people
new family
there would have been
no one
Maya
human animal awareness
peaks
at the edge
of physical boundary
such as
out of the woods
& into a clearing
or reverse of that
into greens
that when mixed together
appear black
some have thorns
so they all might
some are oily
& poisonous, so
they all might be
we appear on a hill
at the edge
of a cliff, below which
a river
beyond which
the stone shaved
clean
by wind
membranes of
cities, the towers
neck tied
& black of dress
the first doorway
opened
& the first pen
an absence
a finger slick with berries
the first wall a raft
possibly
a door
or
the green wall
of medicine &
fibrous material
fruits
& soft bedding
The Ancient Reptilians
every dinosaur book starts out
a long long time ago, or
before
there were buildings, cars
before the trees were gone (once
when they had never been)
before
the leaves were different
and as gluttonous drinkers of sun
they stood, broad faced and brachial
before
their necks. maybe we say instead
instead there were dinosaurs
very unlike cartoon dinosaurs, who
before
becoming huge and terrible
could fit in the palm of your hand
their hummingbird hearts bled in
before
receding, flooding again the plains
of their limbs to move. they’d tense in
vegetation, wary of their own feathers
before
in agitation, taking flight
this is before and during the
beginning of time
before
enough collective damage
had been done to call it the past
before there were roads
before
the whispering of animals into rooms
of our dwelling. be it houses, clothes
as fire eats the air
before
air has had enough and shoos it
when at once it has always been
like the ground to a foot in a shoe
before
the biggest thing on Earth was God
App Ideas
A man
who saw
where my dog
went
adopt
A star
or endangered cat
or grandchild
maker
Nap
injector
suppressed
memory
vibrator
the complete
“Who started it?”
Fossil record
Apology ID
by state, sound,
breast color
Land
Delineator
A game
where Player 1 has
a question
and Player 2 must respond
using only words
Monday to
Sunday
translator
Push-notifications
for grim historical
Precedents
brain storage app
called
Compartments
a tone to let
ideas down
gently. one for hope
that doubles
as alarm
the social bubble
floor
planner
lens
through which
a house appears
gold
unedit 