Murrain
Uncertainty wears
pants
made from banana
peels.
I choked on a
ridiculous
mint, called for my
binoculars and the
soil
worked under the
bar stool,
to cave a way under
the weight
of my dangling
feet. Drilled
the spinning all
the way down
-down-deep-to-duped.
When you’ve been
had
the way people tend
to have
you, watch what
strangers do
with their hands in
a mutually un
-suspicious way. To
make
two quarters spin
at the same
time. This
particular ghost-faith
allows for those
dreams of yours
to haunt you on my
behalf.
I gorge impatiently
on health
makes me unhealthy.
To eat
every county seed
save the
suck of nut inside
a dead
squirrel’s
heart—hidden,
forgotten. Stunted
rupture.
A man just came up
to me
and told me his
name was
John. I told him
that was my
middle name. He
said the key
to a happy marriage
was to
follow the good.
Now when
I think of the good
I think of
a large,
middle-aged, black man
named John singing
uninhibitedly,
pridelessly or with
nothing but,
every single word
to “Jane
Says” by Jane’s
Addiction. “At
fifty-three I do
not seek it,
but I more than
don’t care, I
will welcome the
end of this life.”
To catch a passing
train’s horn
in your throat. To
use a word
is violence and I
am a pile
of violence.
Posted 01/11/15