Thursday, December 17, 2009

these ears (a museum)

1. dreams:

sun on wood

golden sap forest smell

writing

5-6 people

asleep

under a patchwork

of blankets and sleeping bags

on a huge bed

like the one we built ourselves

inside the strawbale structure

of the skunkhouse

my dance moves

in window reflection

running

along ocean

before we shimmy up

over rock formations

and hit

flat shallow water

that goes on for miles

and there is a dog

and a leather black jacket

and i wave

akwardly

not expecting

to see you/be seen by you

across that liquid expanse

joanna’s collapsed lung

resulitng in

fake thyroid scars

2. all the trainwhistle sounds

these ears (a museum) have collected

over the past 8 years

in this city

a river based city

a cooking city

and still

still

still

the noise

crawling across night

from tracks

to wherever i am

reminds me

where i’ve come from

reminds me

this is my body

2. running on rainwet sidewalk

an alarm

going off

inside a house

i wonder

if it will still be ringing

when i pass again

on my way back

3. sun

exploding gray monotony

to bits

for 5 golden minutes

5. white board note

in red ink

daring me

to eat

breakfast leftovers

6. corinne telling me

if we ever would have

i would have treated you like a prince

corinne telling me

about elephants wearing pink eyeshadow

corinne telling me

something about someone being infinitely lame

corinne telling me

how she reduces stress

by reducing her needs

during visits home

corinne reporting via text

how i have offered

to be the towel boy

corinne

gets it just right

when she talks about

preemptive missing

7. a rolodex so heavy

it could never be exhumed

alongside a reclamation

like a knife

sharp

and catching light

on its blade

before throwing it back

8. as the saltwater poem

begins dreaming

i roll my gold filigree sleeves



[Via http://frantelope.wordpress.com]

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