Make you come by paralyzing you;
Make you write by haunting you.
I call every possible name
Who precedes who? I’m spooked.
I remember the ashes. I see
Myself no longer seeing you.
"Let it be made in the dorsum!" Why
Can’t you just say ass? We are who
We are in, expending all our energy
Into interiors not linked to worldly gain.
We lose friends. We make ghosts. We
Roll over in the night and hide our hard
On from ghosts. Everywhere there is
Watching they are there looking at our
Hard on. They hope we make our seed
Accessible to who we are now in.
We will make children, to spite ghosts,
With an evil, dire, inappropriate, immoral,
Wicked, foul, vile, corrupt, iniquitous,
Depraved, villainous, nefarious, vicious,
Malignant, baleful, degenerate, shitty,
Depraved name so only we can love it
When we hear it, read it, see it, taste it,
Ghosts believe, in their
Inability, to count to three. They can’t.
We are two. Our backs become
Postcards for their seed. We lie
On top. Ghosts cannot bury us.
“It was the days of ghosts. Still is. Not the death, but the actual forgetting, even of the death of sexuality and wonderment, of all but those who control and those that which can be controlled. Since an emotion’s an announcement of value, in this society of the death (of values) emotions moved like zombies through humans.”—Kathy Acker, My Mother: Demonology. (via arielia)
This, this about _____________
This that __________, making ___________
This that __________, where we __________, ____________
This no longer (this comes back) (this returns)
________ thinks all this
"I had left the door of the telephone booth open, but he did not come back. On your suggestion I had surnamed him Elijah, you know the secret. I had read in his glance that he was begging for the impossible."
“Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.”—Jorge Luis Borges (via fernsandmoss)
He left as
As dad but
Came back the
Turkey Man with
A shaved head
From a Southern
Cop catching him
Stealing cotton “for
The baby” (a
From a tree
In front of
A trailer down
In swampy Florida.
Wonder Woman isn’t
Coming because Superman
Doesn’t understand Amazonian
Anatomy though I
Didn’t know that
When I was
A kid in
Underoos with a
A bath towel
Tied around my
Neck leaping chair
To sofa to
Avoid lava that
Can burn even
A Kryptonian. It’s
A joke my
Uncle Erik would
Tell a five
Year old when
No adults were
Around before someone
Ran him over
And worked him
Over with a
Baseball bat until
He saw something
A lot like
Jesus coming to
Earth in a
Tiny rocket ship.