SPOONS, NO LESS
Here, on the east fork of the Illinois
the water runs black with oak leaves
walls ache and clench with heat
nasturtiums whispered in the morning:
"frost."
Certainly, somewhere fall away spoons
have never been conceived of.
There the leaves stay put. Stop.
White like fading memory.
Forever moans with a slight wheeze.
Calendula! This night does not deserve you!
Oh yes, we have thought of spoons.
We have too plucked the leaves
from their perches; I'll show you,
Start now -- in this moment
the only moment
(we deserve it, if only this)
Posh. pish-posh. a pock
full of i-told-you-sos.
You've hid all the canaries
and now the sun is gone.
We will never finish the work
of refinding the bright.
And more.
ughhhhhhh i've empty pockets but
well-soled toes
and your chest is a-twitter, don't
deny, I see the light radiant
Put down your work, pick up your fork--
black hands, no less.
INTO THE MUD
The ditch does not dry well
The freeze has taken all but the
eaves
Faster time stops to further
forward
Tomorrow, we go home
The bitch does not fry well
The skeeze has bacon
all butt, # he grieves
Plaster rhyme mopes to tether
more words
Through sorrow be(come) poem
The snitch does not dwell.
Crying is bad.
Ass for days. A whole freezer
full of ass makes all
the babes say yay.
History follows the lines in
the fibers in the splinters of wood.
I laugh and shed air.
The rich cannot quell --
Well. Cry! be bad! no tomorrow!
"YAY" -- it passes for glaze
History?! burns like wet wood
I weep and weep my feet sinking into the mud.
Giving Up
Chimes down the alley
like women singing songs.
Dangerous. Don't follow.
They say pants are
made for wearing but I
seen them the breeze flow
through them like chimes.
I don't follow.
Hey baby, hey darlin, wanna take a ride
with me sleek swoop sweatmobile you
know you want it huh-nee so be kind
but don't lose your mind just remember
that I'm your bay-ay-ay-ay-bee-ee (come
a lil bit closer child)
take take take your fingers next
to me i lay down pretend to
need anything at all to keep me
here to keep me breathe a
sail a story a locket one glory.
gasp. The world is wide.
Ah. (rest)
It's yours. (rest)
No, really. (rest)
It's not (rest) up to me.
..
Do you ever wake up to a painless spine?
A smooth whip of angel's ivory.
The relief of standing up, of
never swaying, of taking one
easy long trip to a tall and comfortable place.
That's what I want.
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