Reconciliation

The view from the bedroom window makes me uneasy
the blue ducks do not settle into flight
but regard us, steadily
as the scissors snip snip snipped away
every last one of my stitches cut
the weird black scribbles through my flesh pulled away
reverberating tension between this point and that.
A single note announces itself, fills the air with moisture and matter.
It's a note that hold matter, every atom, every molecule, every breath.
Hearing it gave hope to the listener.

all those afternoons after

all those afternoons after.
After three weeks of rain, the broad baking lawn felt like a portion of hell.
Spikey tangled Scots thistles made an impenetrable barrier to my bare feet
I stood trembling in Christ's thorns, the brush fence between heaven and earth
doing this, in remembrance of you
three times more to make sure it comes true
and manifested through the rock she carried in her pocket
hanging there in the fold of cloth on her hip
a baby miniature pig, only 5 kilos, and 3 feet long
with short stiff hairs emerging from the softly lined skin
we are breathing together, man and beast, our footfall feather-soft and car crash-loud.

The Satisfaction of Labour

i am a little frightened of moths
The reason in simple: immense flapping, colorless beings flying by my lamp as I read reminds me of that one time
it was a gray time, full of the noise and clutter of many things
He took to watching clocks during the working hours, willing time between the inertia of coffee breaks
His productivity increased as a result, and in due time he received his reward
and allowed the satisfaction of labour to extend past its completion
that laboured mixture conferring possession
upon obsession. The intoxication that pulls you down
will carry you in a basket
wrapped in the wrappers of Amaretti biscuits, and the feathers of ducks.

brainless cars and non-believing elephants

There were five enormous elephants balanced on a spider web in the Amazon.
Miraculously, the tension did not cause the web to break
I held my breath as spiders fat and green as spring, made slow steps toward the twitching fly.
I knew that I, like they, would eat well tonight
feasting on the sweetmeat of the ginger stem
thinking maybe hangovers aren't so bad for playing literary games
They go better when the brain's not engaged
Cars, on the other hand, do not.
there are a lot of things that just do not do.
a lot of doers that just do not believe.

Woman Tourist with Umbrella

Swords, sounds of striking.
Clear as the vodka, triple distilled, that we drank last night
we felt bent life a poster folded into a letter envelope
a message and a picture
a photograph of a postcard that you wanted that was glued to the display stand, all the rest sold already, out of stock.
hard times, going out of business, take the rest, sweltering organs.
Downhome, downtrodden, downpour
Her whole life was a parade, no, a series of downs that always came up at the worst times.
Fake dawns and unfinished projects had eaten away her youth
She accused herself in all confessions.

"Hungers"

Selena was hungry for something different
she had seen long, lean years
eating little, filling up on soup and coffee
caffeine rush to the toilet, cigarette smoke erases odor.
Smoke obliterates everything it touches, leaving its body all over
you can smell it for days after, the way it gets under your eyes, your teeth, your fingernails.
The smell like a dream half-remembered, that he longed to re-enter
a doorway, spiced and scented
Open, suggestive, like a wound or someone else's diary
Or a sandwich she told you not to eat.

Digestion

We ate Honolulu cake for breakfast
The pineapple juice was spiked with grain alcohol
flying lights in the strange music
whirling constellations of pauses and blinks
breaths and sighs, heartbeats and gurgling intestines.
The body voices its intentions musically.
Every function serves as an organic instrument, throbbing, drumming, boiling.
The rhythms touched something primitive within me.
Like a protozoa forced to mate in a mirror
a coupled coupling.