Posts for June 20, 2018

Actually,
I consider myself more of a 
post-Marxist
Lovecraftarian,
which means I’m fiscally conservative,
but socially believe that no amount of public works
can wrestle humanity from the
slimy maw 
of the Elder Gods 
which silently gaze upon civilization
entombed in the ether of outer space
until our collective consciousness
claws open the gates
between our terrestrial dimension
and the cloudy haze where time stands still.

I believe that immigration is important
but only when going to and from
R’lyeh,
the subterranean prison
housing almighty Cthulhu
whose tendrils billow beneath his sunken eyes
which, while quiet now,
may open
and drive the most sane man mad
and wreck the stock market,
or something.

So yeah,
even though I’m technically registered as a Democrat
so I can vote in the primaries,
you don’t know me
and don’t want to, either.

I do not think of you
Yet you follow me into my dreams

Haunting my soul
With what could be

I do not offer to love you
Yet you look at me

As if I am the lost ship
That needs anchoring to the shore

After a long and blazing storm

I do not need you to save me 
From your metaphorical storm

I have already drowned 
In your eyes

In the seas of possibility

I am lying lifeless 
on the shores of hopelessness

Battered by the waves
Of your inconsistency

Travel back to shore, my love
She is waiting for you,
as is responsibility

The wire in the detention center looked taut. To touch with
no give at all. In these brown hands is blood.
Too much in this situation we’ve seen. From the mouths
of the colonizer when they spoke of it never happening again.
We now bow our heads with fingers crossed behind our backs. 
We wish the past was there where it can be. Forgotten or at least
ignored. This will happen again. The screams will to
escape through the cages forever. This is the end game. I don’t care how. 
You were taught.

It’s a homespun kind of sadness
(Homespun? What’s that?)
And the boreens without names twist out
Of history into the future
Where you are past tense
And I cling to the recordings 
Because that’s all that’s left:

An echo machine

And faded dreams of a relationship 
No one understands – 

Idol? No, I listen to you 
But do my own thing
(And that’s what you want).
I love you precisely because you are 
Messy, flawed, human.
Mentor? Sort of, but that’s not correct exactly.

Da. That’s the word.

But only an echo, 
Yet when an echo is all a child has
The child will take it and be grateful.
And you know it, because you still are one
In your own druid, warrior, poet 
Way. You know how a child learns 
And rejects and clings to and rebels against
The echo machine.

“Kids, ignore your parents.” 
But we both know kids
Never ignore. And Home

Is never a place.

Experimental
conception of abstraction
Moskva minds design

Modernist zeitgeist
copacetic aesthetic
De building house Stijl

Postmodern Milan
asymmetrical Plastic
Memphis group deco

Post conventional
expressionism create
Der Widerstand

take your chance at respite,
you who are desperate for a bit of bread.
pit the pit of a peach.
bite.
and
don’t plumb the depths of your plum
heart,
alright?

relax,
rest, sweet.
salt doesn’t suit your teeth
or
tongue.

it’s easier to drown in honey
than mine the world’s hardtack,
don’t you think?

Tonight
Like every night
I hear strange noises outside my window
I lay
Poised Stiff Expectant
Listening closely
Wrapped in the blanket my grandmother had once sewn
Possibly the last thing I feel
I clutch it tightly

As Phantoms pass the glass
With shadows revealed by curious streetlights
I can’t help but develop a heightened sensitivity to all I can feel
My senses sharpened by a threat
The shadows become more defined
The beads of sweat on my brow start condensing into full drops

Focus.

When I listen closely
I can hear the
Faint
Familiar
Hymns of language.
The volume swells a riptide
Danger passes by
Whispers fade to the black of night

My biggest fear is that here in the bed
In this pitch black room
Accompanied by nothing else but my own paranoia
I will fade to black too

So instead I lay
Expectant
Prepared to say my last line
And I am
For once
Happy
That I’m not in the Spotlight.

divide labor among castes
have males called “kings”
and females called “queens”
queens have the longest lifespan
soldiers defend
workers undertake the most labor
most workers and soldiers blind
colonizing most landmasses exception Antarctica
most successful on Earth
can cause serious damage

I’ve come close to vultures
gulping
roadkill flesh
but my bile rises higher  I retch
on seeing children’s dreams
turned to screams
families’ hopes
dashed along a road
where they could have reached
peace
 
*Department of Justice Message Line

A. I just texted my sister to tell her there’s a person in here wearing a boot.

B. She’s wearing a boot, too? What’s wrong with her?

A. She broke a bone in her foot, has a stress fracture, and has that osteoporosis. Six months in a boot.

B. Yeah, it takes a long time. Once I had a stress fracture in my heel and they made me use crutches for six weeks. Nothing. No better. I had to put my foot in a box they gave me that made some kind of waves. Thirty minutes every day with my foot in a box, and the doctor could tell if you were doing it or not. Six months of that, I think. Yeah, six months. But it healed.

A. Now if it had been a wrist, I could have sympathized with you.

B. You broke your wrist? 

A. Yeah, but that wasn’t so bad. It was that shoulder, that rotator cuff that like to killed me. Took me a year to get over it.

B. You had surgery on your shoulder?

A. Oh yeah, and the worst thing was, it was my right shoulder, so I couldn’t use my hand. And my husband—he wasn’t any help at all. Actually now he’s my ex-husband.