Face in a pillow to block out the roaring.
Then a small radio became a womb;
My tight stomach needing songs
to cover up all echoes of words.
Music, a push on a sled into a quiet barn,
finally, the feeling of being covered in
haybales: a thick scent-sound I could inhale
He’s got moves, but the music
is all wrong for the occasion,
doing his funeral dirge
toe-drag at the wedding reception,
it’s a bad number.
We abandoned our tents
Down in the occupied zone
When the blue and shielded
Storm troopers came with fire
Father came to teach
The American way
Of industry, the assembly
Line of modern life
And fell in love
With snowcapped Fuji
With temple bells
And monks in saffron
He studied Zen
Followed the path
Of knowing and not knowing
Death arrived first and waited for the rest of us.
She slept in bed beneath a pall of down and cotton,
drifting away from consciousness
while we toiled within it.
We watched her,
our hushed voices rising up into the air,
“What do we do?”
The questions rose while spirits sank.
Her body left a cavity where she tucked herself in,
buried under the insidious warmth of the duvet.
Pounds lost were nothing to the gravity upon her.
Her breath ebbed back into her lungs,
following the contoured mattress—
a cushion sloped like the bends of the universe—
compelled by forces pulling it in,
pulling her in,
January stuffed me into
This tar pit pipe
If you could just take your knife from my lungs,
That heavy sob still resounding,
Party Politicians love the hurt
Don’t feel anything, they will never learn
Money they push down, they push down
I’m the one “to represent you all”
Polls going up, representatives ring’ doorbells
But there is no love, there is no love
Throw the truth back ‘til we believe you
We hold these bayous close to hearts,
Between chicken wire these screams echo,
Held trapped blue jays,
Swan of evil,
Stripping away a soul guarded,
Leaving behind tears and shattered promises,
Hollowing out unholy, vows forsaken,
Inhaling until fire singes flesh,
Allowing demons to escape with every exhaled breath,
“You’re dating a slut,” I giggled against warm lips, swaying disconnected in the dance. Mind in another world I sat back, hands shaking. Voice interrupted by breath. Savoring this touch. I scold myself for being such a nymph, sitting in the rain, leaf decorated and gasping with the throbbing veins. Rushed and silenced thoughts, clutching tight and never stopping, singing to you, mirroring your hand’s euphoria. Together like this. Maybe this glory is imagined, but I do not pause to dwell, do not let it rise up. Instead, I swell with you and perhaps you are helium I keep inhaling and my feet might not be reminded of gravity of the sensation of tickling grass again. Instead this could be my only emotion. Sweet, full exodus and jovial ritual before twilight on wet mountain tops beneath trees, dew-covered like our bodies. Heaven held in each other’s gaze.
We create our own gods. Licked nectar off lips, heads thrown back, coupling, reaching, pushing in time.
The Descent begins anew,
Stumbled a thousand times upon
The pavement stones and
Will again a thousand more.
This Son of Man, in his infinite
Courtship with disaster.