not the territory (20170319)

the map is not
the territory

or so they say

but drive a pin
into a point not blue
and everyone there sees
descending from the heavens
like some silver judgment
of divine origin
a javelin as big
as a city block
entering the earth
like a rough boyfriend
with about as much foreplay
opening the ground
breaking the waterlines
and gas mains
demolishing city squares
and family picnics
and political rallies
and games of frisbee golf
and hippies making out
and dog runs (hopefully the dogs
are smart enough to run for it
suck it you hippies)

we would have to redraw the maps
and not leave the dragons in the
corners or at the edges
spread those flames and scales
across the face of the earth

but this is already the case

lung/lung breath/breathe (20161011)

rattle in the pipes
mystical blood flowing
through dragon veins
just the dishwasher
sucking hot water
from the heater
flushing food particles
too small to keep
as leftovers

your voices in the other
room where light
is brighter
music louder
though nothing recognizable

so much breathing
hopefully enough air
to go round

lung is the word
for dragon

Poem 20150220

your skin,
according to the textbooks,
holds everything in,
keeps everyone out,
keeps you from coming apart
(though you have no seams)

if we could shed our skins
like snakes do
scratching along rocks and desert scrub
the way a phoenix rids itself
of feathers in a fire
the way a koi trades its fish scales
for dragon scales at the top of a waterfall
we could melt into one another
and our hands would never disengage