04 February 2009
Poem
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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