04 February 2009


Just wanted to share a poem that I am thinking of reading as one of my three poems at Barnes and Noble Friday night. Opinions and comments and suggestions are always more than welcome!! Prognosis and Prescription I can't clear my head; the thoughts spiral and pile atop themselves each one more bloated than the next, like parasites leeching each drop of life from the host organism, (I contemplate things) like a crow wheeling in the dusty sky, waiting to swoop in for the pickings. I imagine black feathers and bloody meat -- scrawny chicken legs and deer haunches [oh, the way they stand in the road, with their eyes transfixed and their nerves tensed taut tingling] Trembling as our words do the waltz [I think: one, two, three, four, turn slightly, box, one...] and our bodies sing too high-pitched to hear, (but can't dolphins listen to the radio shows of the sea vibrating on a roiling, crashing, foaming frequency akin to that of our heartbeats?) Our nerve endings screech like dying cats, or trains coming into stations on a curve, as though we had melted off our skin like candle wax and weaved the axons of our ganglia into dreadlocks. And my mind spatters its sky with stars (which really burnt-out a long time ago) and I can't control this barrage of thoughts any more than I can stop the spasms in my legs or the numbness creeping into my fingernails. [Here's a factoid - did you know that when the pleasure is too great people start to beg for pain, even if they have to create it themselves?] I think of class schedules and shopping malls. Of burials, and anonymous graves with rotting wood tombstones. Of bluegreen bacteria. Of cutlery. I force myself to concentrate on the sound of my own breath wheezing past tonsils [that had been removed a long time ago.] If I stop thinking, I run risks. I might black out pass out drop out and fail to wake up... [Is death when the heart stops pumping blood, or is death the cessation of consciousness?] ---Hopefully tomorrow will bring a better update!! Peace & Love

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