June 23, 2014

when did you forget how to play...?

photo by Christopher Payne ©
from his work
Asylum: Inside the Closed World of State Mental Hospitals



gummy label mad

we were vegans who wanted to open a charcuterie

tremor, tremor mercy stick sharp snap switch the eyes swallow more shit than pens full of gluttony

I want it, you want it
take it steal it feel it
can we reel it in
fishing want with subscriptions and passes
to the menses and massacres
to mundane ribbon-ing and mesmerizing not knowing
one day to the next seasonal trees stolen
view writing about as if any of us left
on own accordance

sentinels of once ago
the forests recite
by imperceptible song
hum sa so hum
we smile when Summer rings
particle and waved
her desire ripens seeds
what once was and wombs
ways of terracing
accidental farming, gathering
and other turnkeys

we stole the rivers

I go looking for the half a reason I am here
I left it somewhere when daring a door be opened
where could it be breezeway maybe
in the cavernous room at the end of the hall
where they deposit the empty boxes full of why
and sent mail never meant for you to read

inside a white elephant
we find rest comfortably lumped
under the rug in the middle
of the waiting room
the front parlor lungs
a lingam structural breath
and our fertile balance looks on
in the window fixtures,
locks and fine steel mesh
that are at times 
woven into the glass

sanitarium serenity
a façade for the huddled masses
asses planted decaying chemically slower
industrially revolutionized life
has hidden waste streams

for over a hundred years now
the mechanized go-go dancers
have stolen your attention
by mentioning ambulatory articulation
reality is indexed and filed away
only a footnote in a Chicago style manuscript
a history professor might have wanted you to remember

you mine for diamonds
while wishing on the rain
dismembered from pertinence
you bowsprit for wisdom
take scars for education
swallow the white noise washing
over the peaceful parts
the mind goes first
when we die inside out
our heart, soon to follow
but the soul
the glorious porthole
to each of our other infinite sides
lingers through ghostly flow
wants to know why any of you
would ever stop looking for more
of those things that fill you
with life, love and longing

EJR ©

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