Toilet brush and calla lily

Toilet brush
And calla lily
Ring finger sans ring
Space between tie knot and Adam's apple

Every Wednesday
Shit in bottle
Connect micro-dots
Kites, wars
Are you ready
For burial?
This weeping
Has properties
Of both
And wave

Shaky scaffolding of flesh and bone
You are 8 years old
Preparing to tell
Your first
Really big lie

Will these cedars
Take 100 years
To grow?
Are you
Timing yourself

American Potty-Training Awareness Month
Accordian Awareness Month
Combine o combine them

That guy over there?
The handsome one in the black jacket?
The one who raped your sister?
Our greatest frustration:
We can never kiss ourselves (Freud)

Almost invisible
Turning a blind
One group
Read a short story
By Kafka
Control group
Received placebo

Die as if your life
Depended on it
Hard copy
Of yesterday
Carving nature at its joints (Plato)
Flag of pain vomit and bile
Courage and dignity
Raised over the
Republic of Cancer

For tying your shoes
For rumbles
In your belly
Praise to you
For displacing air
And water
For your shimmering registry in time and space

Dance to the percussion of your sweet heart
Let your risk be the fulcrum of your love
Put your arms around
The giant of your story

What on earth
How on earth
Love, I'm all for it
Not sure I ever saw it
But if I did
I'd definitely explore it
Whatever you do
Don't stop buying!

The world
In my heart
My policy on breathing
We are still inhuman
But getting ready
To deploy

Potato was still
When we boiled and peeled
Keep getting
My monsters
Mixed up
O lordy
Aren't I the luckiest
The happiest
Of hollow men?
Tapar el sol con un dedo
All of us secretly waiting
For cancer
For suicide bombers

I am no longer
Connecting the dots
Inventing my good twin
Born feet-first
You are a vanishing point
Honest to a fault
Please squeeze
Through the
Crawl space
Behind my forehead
I am casting secret ballots
Voting tonight for air
Voting with my spine
My lizard
On ballots made of shadows

This is piecework and
Words baking
Rising like raisin bread in the oven

Involuntary life
Not ebbing
But galloping away
With her good life
The butterfly barked
I was 12
Everything had a mystery behind it

My hands were paying
Ceremonious visits
I was crossing in a white sailboat
The little bosphorus
Between my head
And the rest
Of my body

Filth and beauty everywhere
Ritual despoiling
Disgust and laughter upon rising
Chaos in night
Good ways of hating
How's my striving?

So pick yourself up
O son of Sylvia and Irving
There's time
There's a little
Time and space
For you
In the world!

                                              -- New York, November 20, 2009 

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Robert, this one is wonderful! I wonder, were you having a particularly good or bad day when you wrote it? ... love, varja