Posts Tagged ‘home’

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.


The Big Dogs

December 10, 2009

the big dogs eat my heart, oh my god,

the big dogs weave themselves into

my limbs as I sleep like casts for

all-over fractures and breathe deep

to massage my jagged jigsaw bones

back into place.

.

they say things like “we are one” and

“you are ours, and we are yours.”

they howl burial hymns that scythe

men’s souls to shards like murder

mirrors bouncing future pictures

back of awkward, messy ends;

men blush and weep, ashamed

of ugly, indifferent deaths.

.

the big dogs blaze strength like martyrs

in my weakness, they hunt in packs,

they think like us but cannot speak.

I love them, my god, I love them

so much; I feel their souls through

the fur on their necks

because they choose to live

in the open.  the big dogs

have no home but themselves;

I go where they go, I sleep where

they sleep.  they are my guides

and keepers, they know the place

where I will die, they will carry me

on their soft, strong backs as I go.

Vertu

November 25, 2009

there are so many things I am trying to say

in one breath, about how many men

have carved their thoughts into

my breasts and left me an unfinished

story lying belly-up on beds and tables

begging for a merciful ending.

I don’t want this to sound like porn,

I want it to sound like every real

and aching thing you’ve ever

heard, I want it to turn your heart

inside-out and make you feel

fifteen again, tender and green

and without shame.

I want to hold every

dying thing in my lap

so it’s not alone, just in case

dogs and mice and pigeons

can tell the difference between

“something breathing is here” and

“nothing breathing is here.”

I want to drive north on Maurer

past the white house at the intersection

by the train tracks, roll down the window

and yell look what you’ve done, you fucked

us both up ten times over

then apologize and remember

I’m smarter and better now, so

I’m told.  I want you to see

the Tastee Freeze on the corner.

I want you to be there for it

and understand.  I want to

figure out where home is

so we can go there.