Monthly Archives: February 2017
not getting it ness
I fell into my own fantasy as a keeper of the flame for the children new to fresh books books books. Even fantasies have antagonists and she was a beast, she related well to the kids what with her smiles and false promises. They wanted what she did not have, and fresh matte finish covers became less attractive as the eyes tend to follow the shiny dangler. So what? An asshole relates quite well to other orifices, I imagine, and cannot recuse themselves from toxic flushing, outlyers from anywhere life might thrive. I could only bring a few around to the treasures of reading, but we could proliferate from there. You know, kids tell other kids about a book and soon everyone is reading it. That was the best aspect of my fantasy. Funny how it used to be a reality, back in the Harry Potter days, the Chronicles of Narnia Days. These children were born with google roadmaps of life, and Marvel movies where once we had comic books. Maybe if I pulled the old trading card trick and attached sticks of bubble gum to the spine. Anything to greet them with language and keep them from falling into her world, the common unconscious of not getting-it-ness. Fighting for space. Craving intimacy. Technologically sound. Animals equipped with smart phones doing three quarters their mental work for them. Grades by emojis and trading in texts, subjugated to a subhuman comment thread without end. I don’t even consider her subjects of the same genus as we. I just see elephant seals fumbling about for dying, flopping fish. Mammals with computers and electric outlets. Mall grubbing video grabbers. Android celluloid.
hierarchy of need
librarian by day
book burner by
night
the transition
gotta keep warm
she says
you understand
story
journal
Journal # february five
story
weathervane
All the Hollywood icons
all the Bollywood icons
inspire us. they sweep our floors
in black and white
All the grandeur of southern plantations
made to capture the sun
arabesque
We live on through these times we made
the oceanic minutia
we consecrate
describe
classify in our tomes
Our differences we set aside to study
before bed. chamomile tea with lemon peel.
we fall asleep on them
We all do the same         in the sun in the
day in and                    shade
out      after
the same nonsense
iced tea
lemonade
sugar cane crystals sparkle
Our children ask for help
without having
to ask     they ask us
help
we live we die
we live again
cuz
Life cannot end
when you die
you cannot really
you do not truly
die
unless you’re just
another asshole
weathervane
pointing
the wrong
direction
the worst thing i never did
sugar was followed by
44
four found a friend
in four
four and four made
of arrows
birds flyin cross
some tracks
of elbows
of arms
profile made
four -n- four
side by side
in prayer
and greater
than the sum of them
selves
with gods
the deuces held court
the days were short
inside them
the nights began
at eight
w(h)ip
starry night
Fearful cold
bluish light
again
mint the charleston
a dance
watching you
fumbling at the altar
alone again
falls off
watching me
to wave
goodbye
will happen when
the body
behind