floating and leaving no trace
that kid behind
the deli counter
runs the meat
snick snick
against the whirling
blade
shaving off paper-thin
slices of my feelings
wrapping them in white
paper
–white except for he gets blood on it–
and sells it to me by
the ounce
always rounding up
to the quarter pound
i keep coming back
waiting for the butcher
to run out
but he always has a thick
fat-marbled dome
ready for the machine
i will read
the evening’s news
through transparent sheets
of myself
bones are infrastructure
that appropriately wielded
sticks and stones may break
[i typed welded originally
and thought, now isn’t that interesting
bones made of metal–do they rust?
are they riveted in place?]
today is the first day of autumn
i feel i am coming down
with something, something seasonal
i wish it were pumpkin spice
but it puts me in a dour mood
drives me like a trained chauffeur
to the gates of a cemetery
with iron bars that resemble bones
or sticks
we park and wait for ghosts
open the cabinet
the scent of amber resin
instant peace
i keep finding these feathers
enormous black feathers
mostly intact
these feathers that i find
sometimes they have been
broken, tangled and wet with blood
dangling fleshy strings
these feathers belong to birds
who no longer soar
i find them
these feathers
scattered and drifting
they drift
they fall without weight
i once found a hummingbird
that had died
it was like watching a handful
of emeralds and rubies
becoming dim evaporating light
as they sighed in darkness
the humming bird’s body
was lighter than many
of the feathers i find
the feathers
i keep finding them
they keep finding me
i drift with them
it won’t hurt when i hit
the ground
my feathers were taken
from me in flight
i will descend without effort
find me among the feathers
do you sleep in that skin
or do you discard it at night?
what flows in your veins
beside mercury and regret?
what offerings will you accept
once your clay bowl has shattered?
why does the mouse
return to the trap?
when my voice is silent
how do you hear me?
——
that cat has lost
her mouse to a humane trap
sulks like meat loaf
was everything you felt for me
a trick of the light?
some magician’s smoke
fanned to achieve
the appropriate density?
how many parts per million
were enough to make my
eyes water?
was the fire a reflection
in a mirror
without heat,
without the power to consume?
see my ashes for what they are
no trickery here
just crematory soot
bones to grind into flour
a het up ape
in a t-shirt
swinging a hammer
i break everything
that drifts into
my orbit
i say this is art
but is it art
do animals make art?
what about termites with
their giant rippling mounds?
now that’s la sagrada familia
what was so bad about
living in the trees
what called us down
into the tall grasses
of the savannah?
the sun puts an ache in
my teeth and the taste
of burning ants on
my tongue
my heart beats
and i feel it in every inch
of my skin
i feel like
i’m inflating
one throbbing pulse
at a time
how will my
collection of hats
fit when i become
as large
as the room?
tie me at the wrists
and then make sure
to secure my thumbs
primates are handicapped
without the use
of their hands
it’s for your own good
after all, and this time
don’t give me a safety word
or better yet
gag me–i don’t mind
as long as i can breathe
it’s all fun and games
until someone collapses
a lung or has a stroke
of course this is just
a metaphor
we don’t even have rope
