Poetry
two
Twine
Things that go down the drain
go into the sewer
You can’t own anything
a dog, my own face
sitting and waiting
bad feelings at
the same times
lines almost touching
I don’t know you at all.
Something
not nothing
an endless appetite for
chocolate
not animals
You're supposed to disappear,
so disappear!
interior life
is real life.
Legs and feet
sitting and waiting
Do you, by any chance, have something
that doesn’t belong to you?
a leather suitcase
or the psychotic dream
of control.
I like any story of justifiable paranoia.
And love is a tenderness
for what is not seen
extracting the spirit of the plant,
exhaling flowers.
When you zap your puppy
they change.
Everything they do
is in avoidance of pain
expression & maceration
imagining what
happened—only that.
I think when you love someone
you want them
to be free.
I wonder if twin and twine are etymologically related?
We are where we go
Closeness is just …
it’s the unknown
close up.
The feet of summer
a compulsive lie
You don't know me at all
in the shadow-
s of a tree
You don't know me.
Pear Trees
I feel like no one ever wants them
Mother
Maybe
I cannot read it
I think maybe she is feeding them
The black fish in her hands
look like grenades
or boxing gloves
also
she isn’t female
but her shirt says mother.
The woman
is stone
and the background
looks fine with it.
Her basket is full
And her hands are full
The tree is full
There’s too much
heavy fruit
to deal with
and it’s so overly yellow
There is a caterpillar
on the ground
and the frog does not look like a frog
it looks like a person
Or the mouse rabbit dog thing
about to get hit
with a pear
I think it’s about the bearing of fruit
and its responsibilities
And the stress of abundance
or the desire for it
The tree is advancing
without them
like disco
The fruit
is so huge
and muscular
or bulbous
It’s not clear the gender of fruit
It’s just fruit
but it’s drawn in a way
where it’s full on
boobs
or balls
or asses
hips
Also the basket
seems subtly bloody
it seems to speak
to body parts
What kind of fruit is it?
They are not clearly pears
They could be lemons
or squash
They seem to be
swinging wildly
They are falling off
because they are ripe
or ready to be taken.
There is one woman,
one rabbit dog,
one frog man,
one caterpillar,
one energetic tree
and many pears
imposing
their creation.
That’s the color of paper
The situation is floating
you have to deal with the intensity
of this moment
now
And it does hit you
There’s no where to hide
She lived in a rural place
and used mud
to make her own clay
She had a very disturbing
medical situation
where she was pregnant
and did not give birth
and never really dealt with it
or didn’t know how
or had bad care
I’m not sure
But she retained the fetus
it stayed inside her
so she was sick
from this
Are they moving a boulder with their noses?
I always think that’s the sun
I don’t know
what her life
was like.
Maybe something else happened.
I heard she gave herself an abortion
by drinking lye
but then took on the look
of a pregnant woman afterward
They said the fetus calcified.
I might be remembering
a little wrong
I’m not sure
I don’t know
her story
but its somehow in there
when you look.
The trees seem imagined
by the woman
And she really makes you wonder
is this finished?
Things not filled in
Its very hard to say
The combination of fantasy
and hard reality
is something
I understand
It seems simple
It is
not.
Part of selfhood
is a place.
She is obsessed
with the two trees
The sun seems to have crashed to earth always
like a giant beach ball.
Sometimes people seem invisible
They are
not.
There’s this place that is open
to everybody
Because it is no place.
She is openly, rudely thinking
You are the birds
The walk
Staring continuously
Might be able to get one pear for cheap
since it’s so
scary
and makes people question
what is.
She is wearing the wrong shoes
for that work.
Or maybe
the chunky heels are good
so she can reach more pears.