There was a cat in the fire yesterday.
Eyes like red nails and a mouth like embers
inside of a bucket, smoking too.
All of its rust fell off in a heap, flames blue.
It stretched and it yawned and it burped up
purple tipped flames through the insides
of an invisible flue.
Night air and night winds down
can you be a town that only ever sells shoes.
Your little toes. By the fire.
Dissolved and de-volved and backed up when I'm 'round you.
Or me. You and me. You and eye.
The eyes of the cat look a lot like a bat
grown too large to hang from a ceiling.
The fire flies died the first time that the temperature fell
and the lights that are rising play a game of
satellite William Tell.
On the left, in shrubbery, a dog dives
to clip a grasshopper's wing.
Good boy.
original works of parts
Wherein Words Cease
Here. This. Now. Always.
Forward. No.
Please. No.
Rake the skin. Peel. Sever. More!
Drink all. Tear. Rip. Cross section.
Spill and catalog and drink.
Sip the path. The curl and trail.
The tip and pool. The scatter. Lick.
Know. The origin and sea.
Turn back. Look away.
Sample and core. Press and preserve.
I have not the stomach.
Sit still. On the cool museum floor,
forehead burning, palms rough.
Sit still. See the glass.
In skin. Chains upon chains of information.
Locked and waiting.
Clean. Uniform. Homogeneous. Undistrubed.
Please stay. Please stay.
Forward. No.
Please. No.
Rake the skin. Peel. Sever. More!
Drink all. Tear. Rip. Cross section.
Spill and catalog and drink.
Sip the path. The curl and trail.
The tip and pool. The scatter. Lick.
Know. The origin and sea.
Turn back. Look away.
Sample and core. Press and preserve.
I have not the stomach.
Sit still. On the cool museum floor,
forehead burning, palms rough.
Sit still. See the glass.
In skin. Chains upon chains of information.
Locked and waiting.
Clean. Uniform. Homogeneous. Undistrubed.
Please stay. Please stay.
Sun Ray
Turn the blast shields. The blinds. It is supposed to be cold tonight. I have been told. The clouds are stopping by before. We will make them crackers and jam. I am out of tea. Check the boxes. The old boxes. There are bones in them. We are always out of tea. We will make them crackers and jam. And butter in a small dish.
One day the sun will be so bright anything it touches will be vaporized, you know. You have slept poorly when you wonder. Of the sound that world will make each morning. Until everyone out of doors within hearing is dead. Because you slept funny. Noises squeeze through the front of the bones and bits of your face when you press a fingertip to the corner of your nose. Where it meets your eye and a droplet dries.
They are coming to visit later. Sunglasses make eyes lazy. Rain is not stopping by and it is good to be sure to leave the orange juice upstairs. Do not forget to pick up tea. The blankets feel the way you said your skin did back then. None of my business now. Waving ripples in their pool. Get up and towel off and put on clothing.
In the kitchen. The sun is blinding. The window and shields must remain open. For the animals. The moon will not know if I am home if it cannot see me when I sit inside the rug in front of the kitchen sink and make ripples in its pool inside the dark. I do not have toy boxes anymore. Project boxes. Project boxes. Close the blinds. Open them. The moon. The clouds will be by later for crackers and jam. Lawnmowers have not been mowing. Is always very soothing on the ears. Are the windows to the sinus cavities. You know.
Undress. All of it. Take off your clothes before swimming. Or they will get wet. The clouds will be by later. We cannot wait for crackers and jam. The photos will not turn out well in the shade. Try to get some sleep. Instead of driving down the two lane roads. With the rumble strips dividing conscious and unconscious and vaporization. Coffee is lazy. The sunlight slipping between the slats of the blinds is dazzling.
One day the sun will be so bright anything it touches will be vaporized, you know. You have slept poorly when you wonder. Of the sound that world will make each morning. Until everyone out of doors within hearing is dead. Because you slept funny. Noises squeeze through the front of the bones and bits of your face when you press a fingertip to the corner of your nose. Where it meets your eye and a droplet dries.
They are coming to visit later. Sunglasses make eyes lazy. Rain is not stopping by and it is good to be sure to leave the orange juice upstairs. Do not forget to pick up tea. The blankets feel the way you said your skin did back then. None of my business now. Waving ripples in their pool. Get up and towel off and put on clothing.
In the kitchen. The sun is blinding. The window and shields must remain open. For the animals. The moon will not know if I am home if it cannot see me when I sit inside the rug in front of the kitchen sink and make ripples in its pool inside the dark. I do not have toy boxes anymore. Project boxes. Project boxes. Close the blinds. Open them. The moon. The clouds will be by later for crackers and jam. Lawnmowers have not been mowing. Is always very soothing on the ears. Are the windows to the sinus cavities. You know.
Undress. All of it. Take off your clothes before swimming. Or they will get wet. The clouds will be by later. We cannot wait for crackers and jam. The photos will not turn out well in the shade. Try to get some sleep. Instead of driving down the two lane roads. With the rumble strips dividing conscious and unconscious and vaporization. Coffee is lazy. The sunlight slipping between the slats of the blinds is dazzling.
Knuckle Ball
The first time I was punished
for no Earthly reason I could explain
I let loose
and split my middle knuckle on my bed post.
The frame lifted up
shifted
the opposite parts of the wood
smacked against the wall
scratching the paint.
I breathed heavy.
My right hand trembled.
The beginning of "never again."
The skin was peeled to bright pink.
Blood seeped and sought air
in little fired balloons
gaining altitude.
I worried I would never be able to
use it again.
Worried I would have to explain
when I was let out
why my hand was swollen.
Why homework would not be easy.
Punished again. For what?
Stare at it.
Stare at it.
Lick it.
Get better.
Get better!
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean it.
I screwed up!
He is going to kill me for this.
The paint.
Is the bed alright?
The door was unlocked but I knew
setting foot outside
was a near death sentence
as close as I knew death to be then.
He will take me within an inch of life
and then some more.
Breaking distance down
to an infinite closure of life and burial.
The sob. The sniffle. The intakes opened.
Instead of sound
born power.
Unlimited power
then. To destroy.
Lick the knuckle.
The fractures ran deep.
Wailing on a tree until the aluminum bat looked
like a boomerang. Jack and I walked home.
Into the teeth of a dragon. Stopped often to piss
and cat call at birds and whatever sat in gutters
or lawns.
The first knuckle to be blown out
healed crooked. The others followed.
They all match now.
I laugh because it is good to laugh.
Fracture after fracture. The skin peeled
like a sardine lid
back then.
Now it is too thick to peel with a single blow.
Permanently deformed.
"Permafucked."
Eventually the joints will seize with scar tissue.
Eventually the wrists will begin to fuse.
Time will become fuzzy and lose resolution
no matter the actions taken to preserve fidelity.
I will look at my knuckles and not remember
where they came from.
for no Earthly reason I could explain
I let loose
and split my middle knuckle on my bed post.
The frame lifted up
shifted
the opposite parts of the wood
smacked against the wall
scratching the paint.
I breathed heavy.
My right hand trembled.
The beginning of "never again."
The skin was peeled to bright pink.
Blood seeped and sought air
in little fired balloons
gaining altitude.
I worried I would never be able to
use it again.
Worried I would have to explain
when I was let out
why my hand was swollen.
Why homework would not be easy.
Punished again. For what?
Stare at it.
Stare at it.
Lick it.
Get better.
Get better!
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean it.
I screwed up!
He is going to kill me for this.
The paint.
Is the bed alright?
The door was unlocked but I knew
setting foot outside
was a near death sentence
as close as I knew death to be then.
He will take me within an inch of life
and then some more.
Breaking distance down
to an infinite closure of life and burial.
The sob. The sniffle. The intakes opened.
Instead of sound
born power.
Unlimited power
then. To destroy.
Lick the knuckle.
The fractures ran deep.
Wailing on a tree until the aluminum bat looked
like a boomerang. Jack and I walked home.
Into the teeth of a dragon. Stopped often to piss
and cat call at birds and whatever sat in gutters
or lawns.
The first knuckle to be blown out
healed crooked. The others followed.
They all match now.
I laugh because it is good to laugh.
Fracture after fracture. The skin peeled
like a sardine lid
back then.
Now it is too thick to peel with a single blow.
Permanently deformed.
"Permafucked."
Eventually the joints will seize with scar tissue.
Eventually the wrists will begin to fuse.
Time will become fuzzy and lose resolution
no matter the actions taken to preserve fidelity.
I will look at my knuckles and not remember
where they came from.
A Folding Star (relativity 3)
A star from which nothing save for light can escape
if and only if it beats the event horizon.
"You're going to be just like your father."
When he said that to me
walking to the gas station
many years ago
to buy smokes
I almost pulled the trigger that would send his teeth
straight back through his box and down his throat
to shit out later.
Later is now. And I am fighting gravity.
I told him he was right
after I digested what he said
from the switch to the target
and the 38 inches between.
I've mulled it over many times since.
Fought hard to prevent it when it bucked its head
through the hundreds of thousands of hundred
minutes.
Still livid. Still in flames. He saw it.
Why can't I?
I am not a falling star.
"The brightest burn most brief."
There are no quips
no witticisms
for a folding star.
No systems
can form around.
Heavy caution on approach.
Other dimensions rule.
The only sure bet
is coming close
will rocket you
farther than you could ever reach
on your own.
if and only if it beats the event horizon.
"You're going to be just like your father."
When he said that to me
walking to the gas station
many years ago
to buy smokes
I almost pulled the trigger that would send his teeth
straight back through his box and down his throat
to shit out later.
Later is now. And I am fighting gravity.
I told him he was right
after I digested what he said
from the switch to the target
and the 38 inches between.
I've mulled it over many times since.
Fought hard to prevent it when it bucked its head
through the hundreds of thousands of hundred
minutes.
Still livid. Still in flames. He saw it.
Why can't I?
I am not a falling star.
"The brightest burn most brief."
There are no quips
no witticisms
for a folding star.
No systems
can form around.
Heavy caution on approach.
Other dimensions rule.
The only sure bet
is coming close
will rocket you
farther than you could ever reach
on your own.
Return of the Painted Dinosaur (shoal mix)
Stone to prism.
Prism to amber tint rainbow.
When the bones are exhumed
time will be too.
Laughter to talon.
Talon to skull.
The children we be alive
to laugh at its wire frame.
Compose a museum.
Every letter to digits.
Fuzzy and fuzzy and fuzzier!
Do not fidget!
What color was he
when he roamed the Earth?
Yellow red and black.
Red and brown and black and blue.
Gently cut away stone
with a brush.
With a pointed half centimeter hammer.
Like the end of a tooth.
Not so hard, not so hard,
that nursery rhymes
set the blows adrift.
If they do, collect and remember
each stroke may
destroy eons gift
and if that does not provoke hesitation
you are forgetting
what you dig up,
while live,
saw you a meal
for the taking.
Prism to amber tint rainbow.
When the bones are exhumed
time will be too.
Laughter to talon.
Talon to skull.
The children we be alive
to laugh at its wire frame.
Compose a museum.
Every letter to digits.
Fuzzy and fuzzy and fuzzier!
Do not fidget!
What color was he
when he roamed the Earth?
Yellow red and black.
Red and brown and black and blue.
Gently cut away stone
with a brush.
With a pointed half centimeter hammer.
Like the end of a tooth.
Not so hard, not so hard,
that nursery rhymes
set the blows adrift.
If they do, collect and remember
each stroke may
destroy eons gift
and if that does not provoke hesitation
you are forgetting
what you dig up,
while live,
saw you a meal
for the taking.
Pill Bug
Everything hurts.
I got too happy.
I got reckless.
Flesh wound.
Rub some dirt on it.
Wrap your rib cage in packing tape and flexible ice packs
and stroll on.
Rotatorcuff? Rotatorcuff??
Rub some dirt on it!
Sore hip?
Move it! Keep fluids flowing.
Melanin will take care of that pink
missing strip.
Everything hurts.
Do not curl up.
Tuned up with billy clubs.
Do not curl up.
Pull a quirky t-shirt over top.
Duct tape toilet paper over what still bleeds.
You're fine. You're fine.
Do not be alarmed.
Everything hurts!
And?
Help me?
Adjust your settings upward. Time has a second component,
do not forget.
I got too happy.
I got reckless.
Flesh wound.
Rub some dirt on it.
Wrap your rib cage in packing tape and flexible ice packs
and stroll on.
Rotatorcuff? Rotatorcuff??
Rub some dirt on it!
Sore hip?
Move it! Keep fluids flowing.
Melanin will take care of that pink
missing strip.
Everything hurts.
Do not curl up.
Tuned up with billy clubs.
Do not curl up.
Pull a quirky t-shirt over top.
Duct tape toilet paper over what still bleeds.
You're fine. You're fine.
Do not be alarmed.
Everything hurts!
And?
Help me?
Adjust your settings upward. Time has a second component,
do not forget.
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