coocoo malookoo

hung there with class,
i said, dangle baby
dress with the idea
the spurring of the notion
that you might come by
a glittering eminence
that you might sit silent
as i sputter out diamond phrases
do you want me to leave
do you want me to leave now
do you want me to lean over
and fall through the space
in your ear. become
a spiral of elasticity
become an earring.

and you stare as a deficit
delicious, i'm eager
delicious, i'm ready
dress with the success
of going home alone. you're
planted there like a clogged needle
and i'm hurting, kneading
like a lap cat. dangle baby,
let me paw at the soundless
thoughts, the eyes that dance
across the bedroom walls
in the sunlight. morning
malicious, i'm sound here
pounding at your chest
with clenched fists and
hooded questions.

1. taxaros

Somebody told Hyacinth of my attempted suicide
some years ago. And her eyes widened like the handle of a carrot.
‘what a poor, crawling thing you are.’ She said and her orange flesh
drooped like wet tree bark, down the sides of her face like spider-strings.
‘stop grating, stop grating.’

Dare I swear I would never do it again?

In a past life I was a dandelion-kicker,
Taking shots at stems that never snapped.
And the white puffs would rise in upheaval,
All the eyelashes of angels set loose so they couldn’t blink,
Couldn’t heal or help and now I’m left without
The crunch of fresh lettuce. See, I’m tree flung,
Flying going nowhere. And I’m killing the remedy again.

Dare I swear I would never take the pills to make them grow again?

So I told Hyacinth I was happy
And her eyes glistened sharp
as an empty stomach anticipates food.

I dip her in the dish water. Wipe her clean.

ii. Asklepios

I am drunk on your love, milkweed
I am soaking in air and gasping for earth.
Facing forwards, but somehow staring at
The back of me. The wind says ‘uh oh,
There’s trouble.’
And the hands of a lesser being
Squeeze the congregation out
Onto the street.

You yawn and the world
Inhales your baby breath.

I ask, ‘why cling under my skin
Like parachutes?’
(no other creature on earth without wings
would attempt to fly)
you can’t make it.'

You bend your arm to show me the bone.
My skin bleeds your smile.

iii. Mullein

Hag’s taper, save me. Be my earring,
My landline. I can perch on your ceiling,
Count blessings like multiplication charts
Hung on the walls of a classroom. They say
Father knows best so I’m hedging
Towards the shallow end of your soil.

Was I born to be your seedling?

King's candle, show me. Which way
to englightenment? you share stories of good
versus evil. My tongue laps at your wisdom.
i'm poisoned.

two-bit nites since she felt that buzz
bludgeoning through, bare feet still
dusty from the walk and a motoring heart
that hums its weakness. (a-mur-mur. a-slam.)
a murmur. a slam. and she's bitter tea striking
your tongue.

Please explain.

It was a dream of a red dress that sent her
searching through racks for the right words.
It was "how-do-you-say... that I’m dried up. I’m not
angry about this decline, this regurgitation,
the off switch being struck and the chains hung from my
master light bulb remaining untouched. It’s the upset
of the channeling."

and it's true that a poet needs not to be a
blue vapor of atonement, a beaded frown lodged
between the craftsman’s hand and sewing needle.

So I could imagine her lifting her shirt up and flashing
the magistrate, where the hell were you?
You are turnip-white and slated for destruction.
You are flavored ice sucked colorless.
The calories are counted on your fingers. You take in,
take in, take out. Please
don’t tell me how it is. Keep your shelf viewing and
your tuberous hand gestures to yourself.

(I work on my machine
And she enters without
My even noticing.
Standing at the bottom of
The stairs sipping coke,
I say, “go away.” And she
Continues to sip, sip
Eyes are drawn to closure
I say, “I’m busy.” And she
Continues to stare.)

She stands in the hallway and hugs me.