Monday, June 06, 2005

Slightly hysterical poem reminiscent of a mandala

[the Dandelion; the Screen Door]

This writhing door is no guide.
Not even a car door or revolving door
can render the dais it does. That pole again. That indoor: outdoor
again. Are you feeling discomfort
my love? Where's
the arterial spray?

Not even a tree or a minute before the cliff underwater
I can't describe it, I can't relate it
to you

I'm just more able to get blood drawn
when Al Green sings in the room. I mean it.
Let's stay
Let's stay together


If you want me to pass out
you better be serious: shellac a worm, twist the blue sheets
around a checkerboard. That'll do it. That'll
be mine. And if I want you to drown in a furnace,
I'll touch an exotic metal.

I'll say I don't know What's there
what's a honeysuckle
carved from?

You'll say You'll leave me
You'll climb the
Climb the


Bougainvillea, I'll suggest, and on this particular
morning, I'm right. It blows the theories, it blows the
stem, and it could just be a symbol because
the skirt is lifted, the gasket is hot pink; and we know
how the mind works, how a constellation of wind catches

the eye, how the wild dust
of a swirl, an engine that goes thwack, thwack
pass out

off the Mezzanine,
color of blood, color of paint


Oh humans,
you should give me
a lollipop, you should
in my mouth

and then we should go on to church
cradle this desire thing

Fix my Victrola
Fix it

my wagon is missing a wheel


Tara said...

I love the look of Victrolas. Not the sound mind you.

strangely effective poem


anders said...

I am glad other people are commenting besides me. Felt lonely in here.

David said...

hey, thanks!