Weightless

There is a wire strung here, so that we might know that we are not alone in being foolish.  A perimeter is a measure of loss, the manifest destiny of an obituary. How many years can I knot inside these walls?  The fear of loss is the harbinger of isolation.  We are where time stands still.  So many specters dangling from that coiled place, a wonder, a breath, stone belly crushed around an impossible stasis.  I would I were more than a nostalgic pleading, a rope caught between rocks.  When is it just—

There is a wire strung here, a cut masquerading as an object, a bombastic wound, a low sung loneliness.  In this cavernous mouth is the song you sing when everything is hollow, carved out, eternal, and it tastes good.  The clearing is where your mouth curls around word and tongue, a blood-deep steadiness that does not ask for an I am.  The what-ifs put me out of my mind; philosophy and desire tangled into an impossible grace that lifts the stone from my tongue and leaves a space for song.

Poetry: Interrogative

Generate me some Prophesy
with your Crew-cut Clipboard
I fear becoming an orchid
before my time is up.
Blinks twice
(a suggestion of narcissism?)
or only a Hit and Run.

I've stolen so many bases.
I feel dizzy and sick.
Can't remember my dreams,
only stale blanket smells
and
A Knowing Glance
and
Take two before bed.

Poetry: Prey

Shrink wrapped hatemail holocausts
Put your good shoes on 
And look sincere about it.
But we're all judas so  
the wrong god walks the green mile.
A traitor isn't lonely
The cause keeps him warm when
All the beds are taken.
Dandelion seeds ask if
one lonely ape loses his head,
What's the big deal?


Man is the predator that shows its teeth
And calls it kindness.
Explosives hard wired into his grey matter
A Fanatic
An interrogator of dreams
With a hard-on for possession.
the wrong god funnels whispers from
an electric chair:
sing me out of this glass cage
and I will show you an after religion,
an after death.
I will show you what comes after
the need to own.