Under the spring pine branches
in the cemetery of youth
i feel asleep for many years
as the sun rose higher
the un-mowed grass weaved
a basket that cradled me
like a child
yellow and white daises
turned their long necks
and broke in a shower
of petals and pollen
making a blanket
against the autumn rain
visitors sat with me during
my slumber
a woman in a wheelchair
struggled through the grass
and around the graves
and out of her own
begged me to come play durak
come listen to vinyl records
that filled her living room with
sounds that swell and covers
that cluttered
"Dear Martha," i said
"If i am not mistaken,
you
are
dead."
she had a look of horror
on her face,
"if you are not a ghost
why keep haunting me?"
love is a ghost...
hidden in our closet...
like a body...
devoured by the things to come...
in the junkyard of my life
i recycle thoughts
put them in boxes
and leave them for others to dislike...
and the broken wheel chair keeps on turning...
like a russian roulette...
from the wheels of a child's bicycle...
to the ball of the roulette...
to the one in the pipe...
the barrel of a gun...
the sewage pipe...
that brings me back to the junkyard of my death
i live a life of bursting starsthat
drip with honey falling from the moon
my life- my velvet flower
sleeps in crisp twilight
warm and smoothcobble stones sitting idlyin forgotten photographs
i swim on the cream of herskin and softly fondle thetips of her perky swollennipples
caress the full and growingmoon inside her wombthat carries a shimmeringocean of hopes and fears
every moment a new dawnprospects for life swollen to the seamsthe soft pear melting like butter inmy mouth
but nightly shadows also passof women weeping and screamingin the corners of my mind
my mother stands in the raindrawing pictures in the graysand of a baby falling from a tree
a lover lays in the harsh florescent lights
of hospital beds, bleeding from a gape
in her chest
baby silent and blue cased in cold placenta
floats in a bathtub humming lullabies to itself
that tumble out the windows like boulders
a parade of faces vaguely familiar march
to beats pounded that rumble through my
innards after swallowing fistfuls of sand
These are shadows
I tell myself
sucking on the honey dripping
from the stars
Between birth bath
and death bath
constant hurry
Constant worry
for those familiar faces
still under earth
They will not know
the trees, the sky,
the ocean that held
A moon of creatures.
My life, a bursting star
sleeps in darkness.
macabre dance...
from birth do death...
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