"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
The drag nets dredge up demons from the dark depths.
Fishermen crowd and speculate in hushed tones-
"should we eat it, burn it, or bury it?"
"Is god punishing us? Is it an omen?"
It is easy to believe in evil when the unknown
crawls and creeps and lurks outside the
sphere of our perception.
I am that cherry tree outside my house, black forest earth piling at my feet. The kid who skinned her knees never came back up. Slipping, hands gripped down the trunk on her way down. Clumps of dirt still cling to her.
I caught a cold today.
Mother says I need to take better care of myself.
Watch out. Be wary. Germs are everywhere.
Most accidents happen inside the home.
(My god, what if I spontaneously combust?)
I should stop by the store and get some bottled
water in case the weather gets worse.
Keep your guns and your ammo separate.
We are at ALERT LEVEL ORANGE. (You WILL be ticketed and towed)
This town is "Red Light Photo Safe".
Help keep America safe.
(I heard the flu shots don't work this year...)
Lead paint chips, asbestos insulation, mercury in seafood.
Will your child: havesextakedrugsdrivefastthinkforthemselves?
Does your debt keep you up at night?
Are the Chinese winning?
I heard there's a recession coming this summer-
What is the projected date of H. Sapiens extinction?
(Film at eleven...)
Flap flap flap
thrashing in viscous medium
twist and snap and twist and snap
am I the dumbly programmed sperm
riding the tide of corpses of his
brethren into history-or am I the
one, that solitary one which will
make all the difference?
Seven billions strong
we inhabit this place
and eke and carve
out a life from this
territory.
Gnashing pinching and
grinding against each
other successive ebb
and swell of violence
and retreat on and on.
Races and nations
segregated by custom and
chance circumstance of
history. Some blighted,
impoverished, sickly and
attacked. Are we not all of
a one? Are we not the germs
on the body of the earth?
Ouroboros,
Matamoros,
Sangria spills as I stub my bare toe on concrete steps.
A flap of proudflesh waggles as the blood comes welling out.
The ants will eat it tomorrow.
Greedy little hormigas.
Amigos.
Cannibalistic rites whereby I identify
with the godhead
have been reduced to a thin
weak cracker and a thimble
of dry wine.
Smooth jazz imagined,
Clarinet squeak,
Out of time drum roll,
Acapella saxophone,
Dreams not realized...yet.
There's a moment in time,
Where you know, but you don't,
And you don't even want to try.
There's a moment in time,
Where you know, but you don't,
And you don't even know why.
It's a thought and it's fleeting,
Overridden by a feeling,
It doesn't make sense,
So you ask it to go.
Command it away as thought it doesn't exist,
In that moment in time,
You know.
Lies hanging from the branches
Chaos stirred by the breeze
I swing randomly through the trees
Creating confusion and screeching loudly
Ignoring that I am the power of the movement
Choosing my animal nature over thoughtfulness.
