Posted by marko on 11/7/2006, 12:20 pm, in reply to "6-12" i’m riding shotgun. but i don’t have a single shell. i can’t it’s been suggested i may have a persecution complex. but i is it necessary i memorize every line, or can i read it right i have hyper-sensitive hearing. i’m easily jolted. i feel it would take ten thousand guesses & not one would strike i drive aimlessly for hours. i’m dog-tired. i need sleep. but i’m not sure what’s worse. it’s unpredictable. it varies. it’s i pray for a brief moment when gravity lets me travel my a swan tries to rip open the sky. it fails of course. but i don’t have a good track record. i never had tenure. i still i’ll continue to press my toes against the line. it could
65.167.39.226
13.
what am i doing up at this hour? i can’t explain. i’ve never
had to. i was given complete freedom that buddies envied.
never seeing the flipside. there was no point in trying to
show them something even i couldn’t see.
recognize the profile, though it’s within arm’s length. i
stretch out my legs. but there’s never enough room. i’m
not searching for metaphors. i’m not rooting through trash
looking for wadded up directions. i could suggest with a
touch of pleading or bark out demands. either way, i’d be
ignored. so i brood silently. then i’m asked why i’m being
so quiet. i could say anything. it wouldn’t change a thing.
14.
what’s a three letter word for—i don’t know who to blame?
what’s a six letter word for—is there anyone to blame at all,
or is it splashed tripping with no thumbs attached?
never solicited opinions. i never requested a slow grinding
blues or uplifting gospel number. i never asked anyone to
lay these two by fours across my shoulder. i didn’t insist on a
handful of nails or a fistful of pain killers. i didn’t compose
this invocation. i found it by accident. i have no clue how it
got here. i don’t know what comes next beyond historical
precedent.
off the page?
15.
a cheap yellow plastic transistor radio with an earplug that
never stays in place, utters a few words of encouragement
now & then. it wasn’t a top forty typed in. it was the sound
that came between the notes. i no longer hear those numbers,
but i can tune in the static most of the time. the possibilities
are nestled in there. but i never pry. i don’t have to. the
voices are as impulsive as i am. it was my earliest taste of
a laughing desperation that would pin me to the floor years
later.
electricity running through me. starting at my extremities
& rushing toward my chest. i react strongly to color. though
my pallette is far from textbook. the shades roll in like
waves splattering a once gray area with choices that are
out of my hands.
16.
i have a nagging feeling there’s something i forgot to do. i
have a feeling there’s something i forgot to mention. i have
a feeling there may be only one person who might understand
this sound that resembles choking. i have a feeling that
person wouldn’t know me from adam. i have a feeling,
even if they did they could care less.
the ever present tao or target on my back. & my mouth is
full of pandemonium. it refuses to budge. i’m afraid it
might crack my teeth some day so i bite down on a bundle
of blankets. another irrational fear. i’m afraid it might stick
to my lips & never come off. another irrational fear. i’m
afraid it might hit the wrong page, & a stranger might find
it. yet another irrational fear.
17.
i throw my voice into an aluminum can. i think it will make
a suitable satellite some day. i tell myself it can hold all that
i have no room left for. i tell myself it will know exactly
which way to go. i talk to myself more than ever.
i need something else even more. there isn’t a single
welcome or vacancy sign sputtering in the cold, & those
farmland stacks of hay might be serviceable but contain
too many of nightmares, along with stray needles that
would keep the demons at bay, but they’re all flushed out.
headlights appear out of another man’s world. inspiring
convulsions & endless zeros.
semantic & schizophrenic. i finally decide just to close
my eyes.
own road, or i’m struck blind with divine intervention. i
can’t do it on my own. i need someone who speaks in
tongues. i can’t translate this spiritual experience into
anything necessary.
18.
pre-marital mishaps are a dime a dozen. bundles of joy
unfortunately less. too many self-obsorbed people in this
world. the glaze leaves the eyes all too soon. the need to
press against another is temporary salty dialogue that turns
to tongue-tied or an excuse for leaving.
does manage to slice a wet moon.
19.
i’m camouflaged in the blood of slow motion & painful
optimism. thrust out into harsh artificial light. slapped
& scrubbed clean. now anyone can see what we have here.
now nobody will take responsibility.
20.
it looks like an ordinary cylinder but give it a slight twist
& it reads kaleidoscopic. it reads tea leaves staining a fragile
white glove. it hints at where i may have gotten these blue
eyes. or this left hand. or this litany of mental deficiencies
along with an overabundance of numerical quality.
crackled with unexplained current. i blacked out during
heated exchanges. i snapped cold-hearted when i awoke.
i came close one too many times. dangerously close, you
might say & probably be right.
just be a warning. it might be something only i can detect.
21.
i sit indian style in front of a black & white zenith with
foil wrapped around the antenna, i flip through twelve.
thirteen if you count that mysterious frequency that no one
has found a use for yet. i find no one who can help me.
no one i remotely resemble. i can’t find a single scene that
isn’t stiff & melodramatic & unbelievable.
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