by Invisible Man
lately I've been cultivating oedipal dreams
I've been eating a lot of peaches
lately I've been building funeral pyres
and offering up worn-down clothes,
crumpled newspapers, grayed-out stuffed animals,
mourning for them, wailing, weeping.
lately I've been seeing a lot of
Japanese schoolgirls in sailor suits
and nurses bending over.
if I was a leaf on top of your pond,
what wind could carry me away?
if I could remake myself
out of magazines and toothpicks,
how long could I go
could I go from one side of this room
to the other
in the time it takes for you to blink
one of your sweet, darling, eyelids,
could I go around the world
in time to intercept a baseball
thrown from Columbus
to Marie Antoinette
and when I returned
would you still be here?
or would you be gone?
and what wind could carry you back to me,
does it blow 'cross the turgid waters
of the Atlantic Ocean
and would you catch it,
would you? would you
throw up your arms
and clutch it?
or would you turn away?
lately I've been playing a lot of seventh chords
writing bridges without choruses
plugging in and tuning up and poising
lately I've been eating
to stay awake.
to stare a little longer.
final exits only go so far.
you have to keep running
until you reach a new entrance,
lately I've been fighting the rhythm
of trains with beats of my own--
trying to stop the beat,
stop the beat,
stop it cold
in its tracks
and reclaim that beat.
retake the castle of dreams
with a quarter-note rhythm
that can't be stopped.
lately I've been hanging myself a lot
but it's failed to give me
the new perspective I'm looking for.
I took my walls down,
brick by brick,
and restacked them in the reverse order.
now my room gets pulled up
and I had to shingle the underside of my floor.
the girl in the room across from me
has an American flag hanging from her coatrack.
I bought one too,
but it just flies upside down.
lately I think everything's an omen.
lately I've had trouble interpreting omens.
it's hard enough to keep everything
inside your skin sometimes,
but I haven't been getting out enough.
it's time to get out, though.
Tonight I search for beauty
Along the path of least resistance.
I do not blaze new trails to wonders;
Neither do I yield to simplistic starkness.
I do not destroy,
I do not take,
I do not touch,
I do not change.
But I remember.
Rest; there is no need to stir;
You are safe, at peace.
Sleep; you will not be disturbed;
I give my solemn vow:
You will not be disturbed tonight,
For as long as this poem shall stand.
We both sleep:
ours is fitful and restless;
yours is deep, calm, ageless.
Sleep: we shall meet again soon enough.
venge upon me
warn off your extroverts
for the bear is coming
to walk upon the morn
i wish to be your only
i wish to be your one
but the lions prowl my insides
and together we were whipped
from the inside-out,
inside my heart and i
turned away to walk the golden stream
when i return in 49
you will be as a mountain grown small
where will i find you
green grass or purple skies
victory will rumble
and birds chase the stars
my voice goes up in reckoning
over the valley of dark
my eyes they glow like stone
and there you see you will fall.
4.19.98 5:26 pm