[[there's only one thing left to do.]]
there are a million anonymous stories in my head. and sometimes i re-read them and i wonder if, maybe, it was you who wrote them for me. sometimes even though i know my feet will fall asleep i still sit on them wrong. sometimes i turn the computer screen off so i can see my reflection at four in the morning. sometimes i feel bad for keeping franz
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I received a telephone call one summer evening a few months ago
That had manic results and foreign lust in the footnote
I drove 252 miles to a railway station to get my fill
Of make up, period clothing, jack daniels - jim beam?
And work for a check they said is in the mail
2 days history, the body of my mind regrets
my idle ignorance of discoverable fondness
in its closesure, the train took me through the twilight
scences of buffalo appeared, dancing as ghosts on the cliffs
the beer was overpriced and I sleep walk here in my dreams
at sunrise I feel the rattle of the prequel behind my eyes
warm pools of still water intise me
but I choose a lunch of cheese and skewered chicken
I reluctantly agree to outrun the storm
The weight of a shy offer lingers in my beaten skull
Married to the thought of a yellow sun dress
Adorned with bright flowers
Dancing on the girl skin and ego sunglasses that shade her serene
A lack of a way to keep dry is almost
the defeat of my love for her
Yet she arrives, widowed and alert
A brief time to touch
Is pivitol, inscribed with numbers on my forearm
One thought later I am coreaning down
The dirt, sucking on whiskey, shouting
Tormenting the sky
Towords our afflicted wheels I sing
And I am ridiculed
A night of drinking forced by unlucky cards
Ends in wandering for the relief of an addiction
Ends with chewing tobacco and beer unfinished
Reply
Twice on the rooster crows, a drum is rapped
In my abused body
After an extended vacation in the restroom
I relieve my frustration with a
Telephone call on a summer morning before the storm
At the price of being faithful
I am directed to an extended shortcut
Through the mountains I sleepwalk each night
Directed by a vague elderly voice:
A hilltop; a house; white; a town of a family
And a weather vane, a windmill, glorified
On a temple with gifts of silver bullets showering
The field that surrounds it
Betrayed by my song-
Crushed to have heard it-
Feast on my lips
The aroma of water above the threshold
Leads me, presents a cat on the stoop
Religously I follow the cat alone
She is at my side each stride
And I - both of us
The cat meets the owl, as I meet her
And both vanish leaving us to hold up
The barn roof and walls alone, the two of us
By our selves, I check her pulse-
I must be dead
My lungs lurch - my eye lids crack
She is there, gin and tonic water
The shadow of her falls from the second floor
Of the barn
2 days history - we speak words
without moving our lips
feast on my unspoken words
delishous
in the company of each, we cry
we walk back to the bullet hand in hand in love
we fit like thunder in the ears of each other
Reply
our story goes untold - 2 days history
it is imagined if you can see it
the truth of it lost in a series
a thunder storm
floods the wheat fields
and chokes my throat
but I am already dead
and she knows it
she knew when I first changed my shoes
I must have iron shoes to carry me if I am to leave without her
I must first find my feet beneath the sheets
We wake to rain pounding on our silver bullet
In the early afternoon
Steam and the storm grows
Trapped in a screen door
The eye of the storm
Is a silence in us
Everything is moist and growth begins
Somewhere a match head explodes
Bite marks - tattooed teeth
Painted nails - fingers professing
Do I listen to these whispers
Or love the rapping of the drum
This rain will stop soon or it will turn to snow
The storm yawns
I strech my arms
I feel the car ride and her tougue in my eye
Shared for stability is our excuse
To be perfect
Her water saltly-
My island dry-
Chicken soup and grapefruit juice
I hear the wheat field sigh
And I know I’ll cry now
Formally meeting her blood on film
Meanwhile dead animals and wafers fill the air
Until coffee steam conquers the evening
Shrugs for questions I truly can’t answer
Are broadcast through the intercom
Riding bitch the road home because of a sleepy flashlight
Cut in half and black seeping through sheets
Puts me to sleep fast
Only wishing now for freezing flesh
Hopes denied, the storm begins to crumble
Reply
Somber mornings still prove seridipitous
I believe in a shirt gliding
Sudden convultions turn blue instantly
And the rain falls again
This time covering our
Starved bodies with mist
Diffuseing the sweat we share
2 days history and my taste buds percist
scrape my roof - it leaks
despite this, it is a home
now a broken home with carpet creeping
up the walls
and my tougue dispises this fuzz
yearns for the smooth of a bullet
2 squinting eyes massage the pillow
deep into the false wood paneling
my hip waxes and wanes
to the movement of her crys
the sun weeps along with us
and sinks itself into a cloud
so the day goes
don’t.
Reply
Somber mornings still prove seridipitous
I believe in a shirt gliding
Sudden convultions turn blue instantly
And the rain falls again
This time covering our
Starved bodies with mist
Diffuseing the sweat we share
2 days history and my taste buds percist
scrape my roof - it leaks
despite this, it is a home
now a broken home with carpet creeping
up the walls
and my tougue dispises this fuzz
yearns for the smooth of a bullet
2 squinting eyes massage the pillow
deep into the false wood paneling
my hip waxes and wanes
to the movement of her crys
the sun weeps along with us
and sinks itself into a cloud
so the day goes
don’t.
Reply
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