Tagged: the Monsters
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
C.K. Dexter Haven
I was trying to stop
smoking – I read everything
I ran. boxed
worked to exhaustion
tried to appreciate the
unreliable emotions
whatever showed up, I
went with
rage like a bull
through the front door
I let in
rage like a cat
with a bird
with intent to kill
but not before I show you
I’ll show you all
I’ll stop, and plunge
that unsuspected depth
to be part of a story
Pittsburgh, Philadelphia
anywhere but here
where the grooves are
so worn down
they accelerate
I go faster and faster
nowhere, like dying
in books, like the end of
Prince Caspian
or John the Forerunner
whose head came hand-
delivered on a tray
as my salvation
but there goes my appetite
up in smoke
up down the river
beneath the water, where
the sky is wet, heavy crumbs
beneath the desk
like a kid in school
locked in but down
I am no longer high, but
not low either
I threw my time
to the wolves
now I see the bone
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
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
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
Worm-Like
once I let the machines
repair my body
they power washed my stomach
drilled relief
into my tail
one guy spent the entire time
in my jaw, just scraping
they must have missed some
anxiety, I guess – what I
described to my parents as
a knife above my chest
not stabbing, just hovering there
I’ve got it down to my tummy
I’m trying to push it out
I’ve ejected my appendix
anxiety – what I describe now
as a strange fungus
aboard a ship
oh to cut it loose
watch it drift into the cold
never to return
never to wonder if you love me
to devalue your love so
never to make things wrong
because it’s easier
because I know these things by
prescription, or strand
because I blame them
or make them disappear to
appear changed
it’s still here
it’s in the room with us now
one day I will loose my hair
my eyesight
my home planet
one day there will be a voice
the one who keeps anxiety
at all costs
from reaching my hands
the poles
dowels in every pore
make the rope you make
around my wrists
nothing can escape when we go
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
Nebulizer
my breath comes running up, alarmed
holding bags
my breath is sinched at the waist
my breath
is afraid to put it all the way in
my breath is unsure of the door
it rolls up a towel to
block the light
it knows footprints by weight
my breath escapes through
the window, and though it lives in me
it looks like a robber
feels like a robber, like
it has something of mine in its pockets
in this way my breath cares about
what others think
other’s thoughts hurt. other’s
thoughts can be controlled
my breath controls them
oxygen – a bundle of stones in the arms
of my breathing, a breathy voice, a
circulatory mind
my breathing is pot without
a drain hole
my breathing is root rot
my breath continues, though I
miss a few here and there
they fly over my head or
over my shoulder. it is a joke, or
salt, my breath, which today
feels like someone else’s. it is not enough
or maybe, too much my own