Wellspring
In the beginning, there were peaches bursting in the
back of a throat. Fluids and waters carried us from
the ocean to the tree-lined hills, gorging us with a taste for
foreign bristles and weeds and needles. We saw a dirt road
and swaths of old scarves left by the trail-blazers who came
before, forever marking the dandelion with their
sloughed-off material essence, the first sign-posts.
Life has always been jagged in parts. When you face the
disappointment of natural tendencies, you must learn to
glue what was once yours back onto your hands.
Humanity is simple. Open shirts and shifts, the breeze
between the shoulder blades of a mother hanging her
children's laundry in the yard. Fulfillment in the chore,
a hunger for the finite job. Ceramic language of the heart-
land folk. Singing songs of elemental understanding in
front of family gravestones. The apples are ripe-the
fields are wet. We culminate in the same ways: glass
bottles on the stoop, a wave hello, a grove of dust and
rinds left beneath the table. We learn to grant each other
this favor. Of seeing gold on river-swollen hands.
Of divining our reflections in the kitchen sink.
Planetesimal
I'm sad that what we see as the sun
is only a mild star holding up this life.
Its desperate bursts and arcs resemble
the hopelessness of humankind,
grasping at reasons for being as we tie
our shoes like blind baby birds, trying
to sew back the pieces of our souls that fall
from our pockets as we walk to work.
I'm sad that the moon-crags, craters,
haunting faces-is so silent, like animals
shuddering in the cold. La luna shines, my
god how darkly smiling, while divorce
papers whirl in the wind.
And they do not come back together.
Aqua Vitae
I am in all of these things. I sleep and unsleep
as if the universe were a mistake.
- Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
Something is alive that possesses a membrane:
A gulf of protoplasm-the universe's
Preferred method of cohesion. What
Holds the atoms of a vase in the shape
Of a vase? The constant flex and flux
Inside that fractal of a galaxy proves
That things move-continuously.
Time is consciousness noticing the
Differences between one moment
And the next. Here are two pictures:
Tepid smiles, plates of halava, a child's
Outdoor birthday party, sand between
Little toes, fathers practicing berachot
Before the singing; One subtle streak,
Then fire-ballooning, cascading chunks
Of the child's roof, a hand, a foot torn
Into segments the size of the cosmic womb.
This, the reversed nature of order, is
Our Collectanea Chemica. Lab coats & obelisks
No longer exist together. To communicate
Between two distant points, we must feel sorry
For the loss of another.
The Haunted, The Conjured
There are only two ways to see a demon.
One involves mirrors & secret hallways, the back
Of a neck, a discolored spine. The other, a will
As strong as a legion of Spartans. A holy rejection.
To conjure a demon, you must de-wing a
Hummingbird, balk at the serene. The light. Luckily,
I've tried both ways. Don't give up a good chance,
I always say. Even when you begin to see the jagged
Sprouts of thorn bushes where they shouldn't be,
Like on the seat of your car, or in your glass of merlot.
I don't have many glasses but I admit it's been more
These days. There are fragmented people hiding in
Corners. Bones unlocked. Crackling. The television
Only comes on when I press the button. Isn't that
Abnormal? My friends are growing shadows on
Their teeth. They smile as the sun drops down and
The dogs begin to whine. When I feast, I hear
Rumors that I'm mad. That I've broken diamonds
With the caress of my finger. To see a Demon
You must affix the grotesque. Haunted houses. Towers.
Moats. Or give yourself the name of a goat and cry,
I conjure thee. And believe. Have faith in your religion.
Have faith. Have faith.
