Wednesday, October 10, 2007


someone is kicking
the back of my seat

again in the flickering
theater, he rocks and rocks

as if it is all too boring
as if the measured words

and lace and difficult boots
rippling back and forth before us

on a piece of sheer cloth
the size of a house

the size of God’s tongue,
are nothing more than

an out-of-date newspaper
or an empty linen sagging

on the clothesline
on a gray day, an indoor day

he kicks and he kicks
the short someone
the little man with

angry thumbs and toes
and my back begins

to ache as if I am
a horse, a poor

pony on endless track,
a carnival circle around a circle,

endless children plopped
on my saddle as circus music

weeps from garish blue
instruments and a gold bell or two

the theater plays itself out
the actors say what they say

they speak about serious rocks,
chairs with broken spokes, cars
that go or won’t

they have guns or they
have drawers, there are women
in closets and men upstairs

and the little man goes
on and on until I lose

the thread of what
is being said

until all I’m doing
is waiting for the light

at the end, for the
sunrise or sunset

and for the curtain to
swoop down and

the hall lights to go up
I wait for the credits

with my aching back
and the constant, rock, rock,

I wait for it all to end but I
never think to turn
and just whisper stop


I’m doing a reading next Tuesday at Think CafĂ© (Details to follow) and I just bought some beautiful and cheeeeeep art. I got the Katarina and Manshroom.

I can’t wait to get them in the mail! Real prints for 20 dollars!

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