Posts Tagged ‘God’

Your Elation is in Direct Opposition to Idolatry.

January 27, 2010

the nuclear family is about to explode

and splatter bloody chunks all over

the minivan, which I hope explodes as well

because that would be badass.

we as molecules will multiply out from

and onto each other without restraint,

cracking jokes about subatomic schisms

and waking up cradled by our friends’ forearms

and backs.  we will live slap-happily together

and save fossil fuels, because dead dinosaurs

are real pissed off about

gettin’ milked all the time.

.

our cats and dogs will sleep

in the trees and vines, hunting

with us in calico war paint mirroring

streaks of earthy joy running

down our chests and backs, parallel

columns of priceless sinew purring

hammock sighs in August darkness.

.

we will dump spare change

into the streets and hand out bagels

for free, we will fist bump grandmothers

and play air guitar in the frozen food

aisle, we will sprint down stairs into

each other colliding with a sound

like strings and bells and choirs

proclaiming the anniversary of

a new beginning.


Thanks To Latvian Pepsi, I Am A New Person.

January 4, 2010

– it’s like all my organs are floating on a lake, sending signals to each other with flags and lights.  they’re asking for help.

– i don’t understand.

– have you ever seen a belly dancer?  not a stripper, a belly dancer.

– at the Moroccan place in Highsdale.

– okay, think about her – a woman, right? – think about her arms looking like snakes.  her arms look like snakes.

– her arms look like fishtails.

– her arms look like fishtails.  she rolls her muscles, firm and flowing then flicking out her fingertips, whipping energy into the air.  it hangs suspended, still, before the next undulation – it’s like that happening every second in my mind.

– is it arousing?

– kind of – no, I mean, yes.  yes it is.  it pulls me in and sighs down my neck.

– yes?

– i see a tree stump in a clearing and after dark i go there and sit.  if a man enters the clearing i want to take as my husband, we marry that night with our bodies.  we perform a ceremony later to acknowledge what’s been enacted between us by God and the forest.

– that’s a lovely thing.

– thoughts are lovely things.

– we should make more of them, all the time.

– i agree, but it’s risky.  they’re like children, a beautiful five-year-old daughter you dress up in tutus and film home videos of with your spouse, laughing involuntarily because you are young and happy.  you love her more than anything or anyone in the world.  then one day someone kidnaps her and you call the police and your relatives bring casseroles over while K-9 units scour for her smell in stripper pits.  they find her half-decomposed in a garbage bag under the bridge.  when you go to identify her there are fluorescent lights, serrated knives made of photons slicing and reflecting off her remaining eyeball, a glassy spider egg about to hatch next to a bare skull, face eaten clean away by worms and mice.  you can’t be the same at all, after that.  you’re barely human and don’t have a say, it’s just the “hello i am a person” nametag balled up and tossed on the fire.

– but couldn’t that make you more a person too?  the weight of loss.  the most human-like people I’ve met are the ones carrying boulders in their stomachs.  mountains, even.

– true.  we are made of dirt.

– and air.

– and water.  lots of it.

– someone once told me that thoughts are like water and if you can’t dance around the flow, get the hell outta dodge.

– they sound wise.

– i like that you are here.

– i like that I am here and you are here too at the same time.

– “together” is a good word.

– yes.

– genesis has something goin’ with that “and God saw that it was good.”  i don’t buy any of that young earth shit.  i don’t think that’s what whoever wrote it was gettin’ at,  but the “it was good” – that is something.  that things like water and light and birds and trees are there is good, that’s – that’s lovely or elegant or something, i don’t know

– i understand.  i do

– you are, and that is good.

– that came before anything else.

– yes. don’t let us forget that.

– let’s remember as many good things as possible.

– okay.

– (..)

– (….)

Two Four Time

November 13, 2009

I was a gentler soul before I knew how to operate

a motor vehicle.  I was a gentler soul before

my friends told me being nice was trite.

one time my brother played a song on the piano

downstairs and I held my head because

it moved me.  one time I woke up and my

legs didn’t work.  my mother cried because

she thought I might never walk again.  my

mother cried because our family fell apart

September of last year.  you sing dirty songs

about me in front of our grandparents.  you

sing like James Brown really well even though

you’re white.  people tell me that I am the spitting

image of my father.  people tell me that God turns

the gears in my body.  big dogs make me feel safe.

big dogs killed my parents’ Chihuahuas, which is

funny because Chihuahuas are annoying.  I still

think about how the orange flowers on Degonia

look in summer.  I still think about the albums

you played in the basement, the places I went

in my head when I heard a man’s voice.

Eyelid Nazis

November 4, 2009

in bed last night
i heard a seedy horn
outside honk three times.
in the dreamy in-between
i saw a black Opel Blitz
filled with pale men
hunting my scent.
my palms together
shook like Streicher
after the gaol trap
rope snapped
his throat not
quite in half,
laced fingers
grasping at
a futile minute
of straws to
sweet-talk God
out of his will.