Tagged: the Monsters
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 cut you make
across 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
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
Summer 2020
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 continunous
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
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
Denis Johnson’s feverish
kazoo music?
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
only after
it has never happened
Clay Mask
I cover my skin in earth, as if
my skin is not earth
as if little mounds don’t grow from both
both are like space to bugs
or looks
why don’t you respond to me sometimes?
you’ll just sit there, staring, as if
there isn’t a buzzing
you need to cover
as if you won’t fill with ocean
if you stop moving
stop picking at yourself constantly
stop picking yourself
there is fire in your chart, without which
there can be no stone, no earth
yet I am all earth, no fire
I must have come from somewhere
another layer perhaps, deeper than skin
where I generate my own heat
my own light
like a vent that warms the sea
After Choking You in My Sleep
the dead must be hungry
the way they present themselves
to me – half a hand out
hollow legs
shrinking then wrapping
the corners as if embarrassed
I would be too
all that work to be dead
and still begging
not that I’m any safer here
stairs are one of the most
haunted places on Earth. I
could be sitting in a portal, or in the body
of something larger
someone’s work or unrequited love
a prison, the defense
of a choke-point
whatever it is, I feel its interest
it shakes my insides as if
listening for seed
it lands on me when
I’m not careful
forms to vacancies like
an owl to the tree
like your voice to my ear
when I’m sure you’re lying
or is it, when I’m sure
I would have lied
is it me? I am poltergeist
through misplaced energy
through dreams of fame turned
malevolent humility
inside lurks
the big black mass
of ever losing you, especially
to me
SWAT
woke up drenched again, not
dreams, not raining
who knows
there’s a resiny
imprint of me
on my mattress, laid over
countless others
like days
I go through what I ate, when
the withdrawal symptoms of
things like caffeine
pot, what I’m wearing
sleep positions, if
I should shower before I sleep
maybe my mattress is a valley
my blankets roads
I overheat, sweat
become cold, pull them up
to wake unsure
where the water came from
if it’s water at all, or
just salt
if while sleeping, I’ve
been swimming, and
barely made it back to shore
