|
There are mighty few people who think what they think they think.
- Robert Henri
|
September 6th, 2006
X
I was so afraid -
yes, more afraid
than I have ever
ever ever ever ever
ever ever ever ever
ever ever ever ever
ever ever been
before, ever.
Or am I being melodramatic again?
September 5th, 2006
IX
Van Helsing unfastened the coffin lid,
peeled the crucifix from the bone-white brow.
He pulled the garlic from the rust-flecked mouth,
careful not to touch the teeth.
He stitched back on the severed head,
and he blotted up evidence of Holy Water,
and, full of care, he heaved free the hammer-frayed stake,
like Excalibur from the nameless stone.
Rolling up his sleeves, he said:
“Now here comes the hard part.”
September 1st, 2006
VIII
She looked at the floor and wall and was uncomfortable,
and I did not smile.
I did not say her name.
She told me her family secret,
and I made a joke of it,
and we laughed.
She spat and snarled
and made claws.
I shrugged and looked away.
God, how can I ever atone for my sins?
August 30th, 2006
VII
“Look, we’re moving to Europe. To London, actually. That’s where my wife’s from. I hear it’s great over there. People keep telling me I’ll love it. I think it’s really gonna be great. But so, listen, we just want it out of the house. I’ll tell ya, why don’t you just come on over and take the goddamn thing for free?”
August 28th, 2006
VI
Dandelion, understanding,
stands and stretches
into the hot air
and cheerfully, happily,
is annhiliated,
asundered,
drawn to Heaven.
—
August 25th, 2006
V
I have killed.
I’m sure to do it again.
I was breast-fed till I was 18.
It’s my mother’s fault.
I replay vividly my grandmother’s death.
Each morning. It rouses me.
In my quiet room, I plan the rape and slaughter
of thousands, near and far.
When I was a child,
the sound of our dog yelping at the window,
as we left for family outings …
… well, I could not but burst into tears.
It has never occurred to me that I truly exist -
- not until days ago.
I am willing to believe it may be true.
August 23rd, 2006
IV
I note a lump inside me,
in my body -
in the thorax, in fact -
in my chest -
just shy
of the sixth rib.
It throbs.
It is clearly alive.
It is an eager, pupate lepidoptera.
Or, no, it is a slim lizard, legs bundled, incubating.
Or, no, it is a cradling mammal perhaps, coiled like an ammonite,
fragile paws over sightless eyes,
praying for its life.
Or, no, i see clearly now it is a gleaming spring
of terror,
its breathing a rhythmic flexing of its own strength,
preparing to stand out into the world,
where it will do infinite mischief beyond all recall.
I have treasured it so,
loved it so, this thing,
and i accept that i shall treasure it always,
even as it clears my breastbone and murders us all.
August 21st, 2006
III
Daedalus – with only one wing done -
fled before a mob
determined to string him up
and piñata the hell out of the man.
Running for his life,
he donned the single wing and,
triple-jumping to the cliff’s edge,
launched himself,
leaving the killers marooned.
As he made into the open air,
wing outstretched on one side,
on the other,
inadequate hand flapping,
he understood that all
the wisdom of science and reason
would not support him.
August 18th, 2006
II
So then i will suck on the silver spoon,
lick the bottom of the bowl,
chew its rim,
gnaw the table too
till i get my teeth to snap like chalk -
like chalk, to break -
and i will gnash enough, and hard enough
to pulverize the last tooth of resistance,
till i come to the alveolar ridge.
Oh, and then, and only then,
will i be fit for suckling,
powerless at the full and generous
breast forever.
August 16th, 2006
Below is the 1st of a 13-piece series called “12 Poems Of Joy”. A new installment will appear each Wednesday, Friday, and Monday over the next month.
Send questions/inquiries to “12 Poems Of Joy” .
I
I must put it in,
get it in, and get it down deep,
and pack more in on top. And more,
I must watch myself do it.
And I must watch her watch me doing it.
And we must together watch it
go down, predictable,
inevitable, and shocking,
always shocking -
fucking shocking us, over and over.
Thunderbolts of Zeus
burning us to cinders,
over and over
and over again.
|
|
