eo-08

Grab the barbie by her blonde hair
& twist her head off in one turn. Remember
your best friend’s words: only stupid girls dye their hair;
remember his words next time you see a nest of burnt wires
clogged in your shower drain…

This farce again. I’m city-bound. Watch the carnival of consumerism roll by my window, these come-hither neon seductions. I’m just here for socks and coat-hangers — we all know how that song goes. Extricate self from tram, self from the spill of humanity, the close proximity which cues anxiety. Extricate, land on pavement and — it’s all in my face.

A dyslexic in an alphabet reversed,
the universe looping both flaccid and disjointed:
noodles, macaroni, dot, dash,
a Morse code, impenetrable except for instances
the rest tramples…

grandma carpet succumbing to its age sun-bleached, shoe-scuffed, buckling near the walls 25 years of footsteps…

There was a great flood. In the great rush of water, the Great Tower fell, and the One Language, contained in its central citadel, floated away. Over 40 days and 40 nights, the One was dissolved into many: all the tongues of the world…

According to the book of Daniel
my name means Little Willingness…

A hyena often appears in my shadow
everytime I try caviar again. She has an odd
number of utters that bubble and bloom
like the keloids clustering my jaw. If I whisper count down…

We witnessed from the lens a great distance.
I saw the sea of trees and you said you saw the snow,
or the sun-baked canyon where the river once flowed,
and to hug you, kiss you and bring you closer…

Across furrowed field, we broke traditions
Playing cowboys and native Americans
Me, Cheyenne nation – eyes like tadpole
Flaunting wool aroc, flaring eagle bonnet, bow and arrow
You, Vacqueros – skinny like beanpole
Parading brogan, bowler hat, baronet and musket…

The blob-fish queen ate herself yesterday, but if you look at the plaid shadows the windows cast, you can still see her in the lines they form. A maniac at heart, none of us will ever drink to her memory, so instead we cast fishing nets over her castle to celebrate todays community-wide holiday. Her administration stole a third of

Many people have forgotten the world behind the couch. There are more dreams still about the cracks in the cushions, where many still shove their toes while watching movies, too intent to realize what memories they might be losing with their toenails and their change, or slips of paper with phone numbers on them, ones they must never have meant

She’s stronger now,
not hiding or exiled
at the polished table
in the quiet courtroom…

The solution, my father announced, with only the crown of his head visible above the stacks of packing boxes, was to raise a marquee.

A grand marquee, my mother added…

non-Euclidean beings, evolved from 2-D where one slides along, to where the 2 becomes a topology of karma, inescapably tight-bound around whatever evolving slightness, whatever hinted-at mystery, a projected felt space (intermingled with flesh) of feedings & feedbacks, of social & antisocial, of nano-synapses experimenting with surrender & freedom (drowning out dialectical cries), of organic immersion in regeneration & decay,