I ADJUSTED MYSELF LIKE CEMENT BLOCK BRICK BOOKS AT A PICNIC TABLE
I adjusted myself like cement block brick books at a picnic table.
It’s not a funeral march to immortality baking its starmud
by the liongates of the sungods. I’m just looking for a star
through the dirty window of the world. How many opportunities
in life do you get to see your own death in the eyes
of the way people love you? I’m blessed. So says
Buddha Pinocchio, but Azazel thinks he’s evil cause he guessed.
And keeps on guessing, guess, after guess, after guess.
But what’s the sun got to fear from the fire when it’s all us?
Alone together in the same liferaft. How you exit like a peasant king
delirious with poetry. Summer wandering into a mine field
should I say it, think I will, tumours. Pop goes the weasel.
Or is it Betelgeuse? Got to stop that before I get carried away
with myself. Ride your bannister like a red tailed hawk.
Metaphoric code for an asphalt wavelength of a joy ride.
Better to be a river than a highway. Or a rat snake.
You’ve got to leave them alone to eat the vermin.
Insanity, my friend. You write good poetry. Sylvia Plath
says so. But you’ve got to watch all those Anglo Saxon
gutturals when you’re trying to pray with
a ventrologuial mantis on your knees that talks like a cardinal
about debilities as if he had an oven up his sleeves
like an emotional crematorium for broken hearts
trying to make it in the arts. Pray. Now altogether pray.
Glad I got that out of the way. Hope he’s happy.
Let’s get on with this. Pass me a cigarette through the bars.
I think I see stars again. I’m a Chinese mandarin
who reads Ovid in the original by the Black Sea in the winter.
Maybe I should put some city imagery into this
for oxymoronic effect. Tug boats off Haidai Gwai in the distance
and a lone heron on the fly who takes the moon for granted
because it’s all so impersonal to fake. Green moss
on a totem pole lying in the bracken and the seagrass
as if someone fell off their seahorse. And died with the moon.
OOOOOOOOOO It’s calendrical. Stonehenge, anybody?