Posts for June 2, 2019 (page 8)

THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO. SOMETHING WAS EVERY STUPID.
IT WAS AN ANIMAL, WET AT BOTH ENDS LIKE THEY MOST ARE,
AND WET IN EXTRA PLACES TOO,
LIKE IT-S NOSE, FAMOUSLY, IT BEING A DOG
OR -IT WOULD BE -IN A FEW MOMENTS ANY-WAY.  

A VERSION OF YOU DEAD FOR A DOZEN STONE STRATA
EXTENDED A HAND ((SKY STILL RIFE WITH ELDERLY STARS))
(I AM THE FIRST DOG NOW) I HAD SURELY SEEN YOU SMASH SO MANY SKULLS OF OTHER PROTO-DUMBTHINGS
INTO CRUNCHY PULP
BUT I LAPPED AT IT ANYWAY.
BECAUSE IT WAS SLICKED WITH FAT OF SOME ANIMAL WHOSE FORM WOULD SEEM FOREIGN TO ANYONE ALIVE NOW.  

I WALKED BY YOU FOR EONS DYING AT YOUR SIDE AND IN YOUR SERVICE AND BY YOUR HAND AND WITH YOUR MISFEEDING AND UNDER YOUR STONES AND BENEATH YOUR WHEELS AND AROUND YOUR NEEDLES AND WITHIN YOUR FUMES AND BY YOUR FIST LADEN ANGER BUT ALSO YOUR LOVE LADEN FATS WHEN MY LITTLE BODY WAS TOO ROUND TOO MOVE ITSELF WHICH EVERY ONE WE AGREED WAS AWFULLY FUNNY  

LETS, US, PUT ANTENNAES ON HER AND SHE MAKE A LITTLE SPACEMEN, ONE OF YOU POSITS.
A GLASSMAKER IN RUSSIA
WHO CRAFTS THE FISHBOWLS OF THE ELITE MAKES A PREFECT CRYSTALLINE SPHERE
YOU LOWER IT DEFERENTLY OVER MY TINY TRIANGLE EARS AND STUPID HEAD. MY PAWS HAVE NEOPRENE MITTENS AND MY BODY IS PRISON ORANGE IN MY HILARIOUS! TINY JUMPSUIT.
YOUR AUNT MADE A PATCH FOR MY HAUNCH THAT SAYS JUNIOR SPACEMAN. MY EYES UP AT YOU, THEY GLISTEN WETTER THROUGH THE SHEEN OF THE DOME AND IT REFLECTS LAUGHING FACES. A DOG SUITED AS MARTIAN! TRULY WE HAVE MADE EXPENSIVE FOLLY FOR SHEER WONDER, NO DOUBT YOU ALL AGREED. I COULD ONLY HEAR A MUFFLED HUM

  THANK YOU SIR, ROCKET MY PUPPY BODY INTO THE ATMOSPHERE SO HARD SIR, THAT MY EYES SINK IN TOO FAR AND STOP WORKING SIR, THANK YOU, AN HONOR I FEEL MY PLASTIC COVERED FEET SINK SLOW AND WEIGHTLESS INTO THE SURFACE.
IT IS INTERSTELLAR DUST.  PUPPY BODY IS COLD. I RADIO BACK TO BASE,

“””“WE ARE FINE RIGHT NOW BUT WILL DIE SOON, LIKE THEY DO ON EVEREST.
BUT LIKE, IF THEY DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR IT””””

BUT THEY LAUGH BECAUSE I ACTUALLY AM MAKING CHARMING DOG SOUNDS.   FROM THE MOON. A FAIR THING TO LAUGH AT.
PUPPY (HERE WE USE PUPPY AS AN AFFECTIONATE AND AGGRIVATING MISNOMER FOR ALL ADULT DOGS) BODY STIFFENING AS YOU HAVE LAST THOUGHTS — – –

– I – I AM THE FIRST DOG – !

In the Garden of Consistency

In the Garden of Consistency
the Holy Man is caretaker  
his house has no gate, no alarm
to warn him of those who might take
what he already decided to give

In robbers and thieves, he sees himself
he hands out coins and wisdom
enabling with gifts; breaking with mercy

He does not suppress the symphony of others,
emboldening tongues that shake the heavens
an offense to those
who has named their garden Perfection

He ignores the arguments of the righteous
doesn’t give political opinion
he himself is a refugee
waiting for his homeland

35 years of marriage
this Holy Man’s nose is crooked
at dawn
his wife sings in the garden

Those who live by the law of self
are blind to his nature
he is no storm, but a drip
his labor is unseen, deep in the soil
his life is the planting of seeds
and the harvests of glory

Sometimes I think how the world
will go on without me.
Traffic lined up at stoplights,

billboards shining in the rain.
The temple still there on the corner
laughing pre-schoolers inside.

Stores still selling their stuff,
all the things I bought over the years,
none of which mattered much.

Not a discernible iota of me remains
or maybe I’m part of all that’s here.
Shopping carts in the Kroger lot,

people on endless errands.
It all means something
     or it doesn’t.

sneaker wave swept up

detox the long road to find you

sick and tired i was

unsteady

set free on the coast

spirit molecules arrive in wind

lost and broken i was

mended

Perseus the prolific rain down

showered with revelations

hugged tight with truth i was

found

spread free my ashes

when the north wind blows

down the links to a back pin i am

home

I need you to take control of my mind my thoughts and my actions All this madness around me, it feels like it’s drowning me, you see the devil wants me to Hangout with him and his crew but if I do I’ll be screwed out of all my dreams and opportunities and everything that God has in store for me so I’must stand up and stand firm I know I’m going to get many blessings in return somebody told me I was bold it’s only cuz I was chosen and with that said I’must stay away from Poison

I would write stories
about my two dogs and fat cat
My husband is sure I’d make us rich
but
the strictly raised school girl inside me would die
The cat
quite frankly
‘s a b*tch

In a circle, we lob the ball to each other
until someone disrupts the flow.
To restore trust, we touch belly buttons
to the floor, rising to try again.

We mime making bologna sandwiches,
lingering under the hood of our desires
like a surrealist sticking a lightbulb
into a bowl of red pepper chili.

Off script, we upend the rules,
build a world, refuse to suffer.

An old wives’ tale my momma told me:
if you get your belly wet washing dishes 
you’re bound to marry a drunk. 

This used to matter a lot to me since I always kept 
a wet belly washing dishes and spent years
loving a young man with blue eyes who eventually loved me back but not more than he loved liquor.

My husband and I just finished a bottle of wine
he brought back to me from a work trip to Italy.
I hand-wash our glasses and lean against the counter, watching birds out the kitchen window. 
I sigh and smile and hum, not noticing my wet 
belly till he comes to kiss my neck and offer me
a towel. 

Old wives’ tales don’t matter to new women 
who learned the hard way to love better men. 

I spent the night in jail one night
Very scary – locked up tight.

How do moneyed women do it for two plus years?

Exchanging Hermes scarves for an orange jumpsuit
What if they don’t like the color?
When released, do they avoid it the rest of their lives?
Hard to avoid a Harvest Moon.

Are friends made inside?
Doubtful…different educational backgrounds
And really, you run with a different crowd
Not much running in there though

But wait…You have amazing traits –                                                                              things so few know about you –

Will your personal servents keep a schedule while you’re gone?
Dusting unused desks – changing unslept in sheets –                                          Perhapes they’ll use the beds and desks – see how the other half lives –
Or, do they have integrity?  Good word, that.

When you get out you’ll still have millions
You could buy a farm in Connecticut…Oh wait,
That’s where the prision is…
Doubt that’s a viable opition

Must be hell in there – tho not the hell of losing a man you adored 
to another woman
nor the hell of being an inmate in a concentration camp
during the Holocaust

Isn’t it amazing how you find out who your friends really are?
It works that way when someone dies, too

Just read about you, and wondered…

i have a crick in my neck 
a balloon in my belly 
and a pang of something 

my cat is draped in the windowsill 
her head snaps a typewriter watching 
chipmunks violate her domain 

i roll over away from the green 
fuck i am turning into emily dickinson 
so i think of something dangerous