the Indian laughs
he knows
more than he should
he plans to use it against me
bury the hachet.
Sending poetry to the world
the Indian laughs
he knows
more than he should
he plans to use it against me
bury the hachet.
My cat and
I
live now in a tent sometimes
my car
and when she talks to me
she says – do it!
You do it! Dream it!
Be it!
Don’t confine yourself to him –
Don’t live in that little square –
Spend it!
Be it!!
Feel it cat – that high high high!!!
We can go anywhere you and me…
Oh cat, no mind! let’s pick up and go!!
We can live in Costa Rica
where the black sand welcomes
misfits and we
can plunge in with all our clothes on!!!
that claw of yours
hooked
just deep enough
to pull my lip
fat from my face
in one
overt come hither —
our kind
succumbs,
opens wide
welters in
Sisyphean
embrace
In a hush hush voice, he creeps through the door and says, “follow me” and I go knowing what is behind that door but pretending a surprise because I need the adventure and the adrenaline and they say it’s good for me, every once in awhile, to get away from the cold food served on blue trays. So follow him, I do, through the darkened doorway and out into the sunshine of a cloudless day. He holds my hand and shows me a pond, green slime-topped with huge goldfish lurking underneath, eating algae and growing bigger and bigger and I know they will eat me if they have the chance with their gold teeth that matches the sun if you look at the angle right. He tells me to throw the bread crumbs into that slimy mess of a pond and feed the fish but I know they want to eat me with their gold teeth and make me their breakfast on this fine day and that if I throw the bread, I will die.
I put the bread into my mouth to protect it and he says in that hush hush voice, “now now” and reaches into my slimy mouth to retrieve what has already disintegrated into paste. I have saved myself to live another day with my blue trays and rocking chair but the thing is I don’t know why. He seems bored. My skin is burning from this outing and I want to go back inside, away from vicious goldfish and cloudless skies. He says in his hush hush voice, “Maybe tomorrow, you can feed the fish, they really like you, you know, they really do.” He takes my hand and I follow him back through that darkened doorway. The goldfish swim on angry as we take our leave. They leave trails in the slimy water while I lick my teeth with my tongue that tastes of stale bread. I say over again in my own hush hush voice, “they will never pull me under with their gold teeth.
white walls frame
a white window sill:
outside colors
a shade of their
former selves
i
am
penciled in
by white walls
white page,
TV blank with white noise,
cursor
blinking
wanting
waiting
end it
tomorrow control it
fight scratch claw fight
kill it
that deep down
twisted knife
step off the ledge
jump the height
end it
tomorrow control it
fight scratch claw fight
kill it
i am it and it is me
i am it and it is me
no end
no end no end no-
end it
tomorrow control it …