Tagged: writing
Yell Fuck at Canoe Rental
geese scream lyrics
over a banjo being played
inside a trailer full
of life-jackets
where the fuck
have I landed?
the sound comes out
in ligaments
the geese are so angry
they lose themselves
white fluff in disarray
off them, honking
wildly. I wonder if
they could see the sound
if they would
be so angry
on top of sound is placed
their own, a bigger sound
their voices
press shut their eyes
when one feather goes, so
does its opposite, keeping
the enraged birds
in balance
there are many feathers
on the ground now – I imagine
them cleaned and colored
for crafts
children 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, together
they leave to accept handouts
in the parking lot, or
whatever it is they’re used to doing
the light squirms in
the heat. the light
is the same light as always
we have 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 cannot understand
the feeling of light on its skin
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
Pesticide 2
ants grow their fungus
in my ears
confuse my eyes with pools
they touch me, expand
get used to me
not moving
I try to see their whole bodies
in a way I’ve never seen
my whole body
but can feel it
I am up top, pressed
against glass
I am standing too close
to the moon
It goes down my body
to the planet
I try to see its whole body
in a way I have never seen
my whole body
but can feel it
Battery Effect
tonight it has been red
then yellow, then luminous white
I think coral, copper, cotton, rattle
at one point it was below the water
before that it had never left
now it’s here, and I know instantly
that I know something, just not what
maybe I feel the moon’s knowing, or I
heard something, the stars
discussing the moon’s politics on the Earth
children in their adult poses
doing mounted police, doing plumbing
doing queen and king
they do bullhead, water-bearer
they don’t play the root, as you have
or me, the stone with a root in it
we are fixed to the hood of the Earth
the sun does a firm bounce off the moon
it goes down a corridor before
coming back, unlocking the next
entrance, and the next, perhaps everything
a baby gate opens, the milky way opens
we are ferried to our rooms in secret
swept in by birds, to be checked on
later, though they know we will be gone
in their wisdom they can see themselves coming
as I have seen myself coming, and you
our mouths open to the same phase
your blood a belt of red, the candles yellow
my reach a luminous white
Vision at Fallen Home
we took his couch, some
tools – to help
evacuate belongings
we took his cords
the garden too
has been demolished
though hummingbirds return
for the turk’s cap
along the fence
they go from stagnant
to blistering
which feels familiar
one transcendence
to another
a tourist in each
starting to head back
then pulled out
by color, certain
red objects
brilliant against
old footage
a poppy
a war
in many ways I feel
that we knew each other before
we must have done
the way you identified my mouth
like a plant from home
and I know your hands
and I fear so capably
your loss, as if
it has happened
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
that tells us about spirits
that 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
til 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 two dimensions
a flattened Earth holding
more of us, all at once
if she is trying to say something
we wouldn’t know
she is collapsed upon. so
we move forward
in the old way
in which
you’re allowed to replace yourself
Thirty
I was standing in line with you
when I passed out, fainted
I guess, and woke up
on the floor
I remember feeling
guilty, like I had overslept
and how different
you looked
appearing over me, like
a god, or its mother
perfect
and impatient
my elbow hurts – I realize
I must have fallen on it
you say I may have fallen forward
if it hadn’t been for you
how lucky – I am grateful
– I am weak – I am
let down gently – I am
long to see
the security footage
in which your reaction
plays out like a silent film
in which
the faces of the embarassed
become everyone, black
and white, at each moment
assigned a time
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
How to Release Dead Animals
it is hot and windy. your face
is probably covered in hair
your body out
I am reminded of the animals
I’ve kept, some of which have
died in my care – snails
toads, spiders – clearly dead
(some had been melted
in tupperwares in which
I had also caught a star)
now back into the wild
unable to throw them away
unsure of their use now, as they
no longer moved in my room
unsure of where it was
I had found them
running away, around
this whole time, open
mouth against clear
sloped walls
even the rocks I’ve kept, like
tears hidden up my nose
or in my ears
I’ve wanted to keep forever
my ultimate stubbornness
to be an everything-sized cage
to be your whole world
suddenly my mouth is full
I set the dead on the knape
of the Earth, an armadillo
rooting its vast, known circle
flinching, closing
the dead to skitter off one day
the Earth to have rings
the dead to die again and
again, having lived
again I am unsure about
the size of the world
where the color goes
on captive animals
why they feel different
how they could have died
if I can love something
without having to have it
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, in the city
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
of the Whole Foods
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
approachable temperature
a star just being friendly
holding it
lighting their eyes
but stars are forever away
maybe they have already died
