A PHARMACEUTICAL MEETING ON THE EVOLUTION OF PILLS
mongrels of chemicals, something must be done with this mundane action of swallowing prescription pills. no distinction in the memory can be made among other things one may shove into their mouth daily. why for one, all mine are white and circular too, and they do not come in flavors or names I can pronounce. perhaps I would remember them if the capsule shell was so disgusting that the mind could...
A layer of death like dust has settled on my skin and like a blemish it gathers dirt I have not cleansed it builds from a mole’s hill to a mountain so that the pus of life may flow out like lava from a volcano calloused ranges form down my back like a new spine where these heavy things like life are carried out of reach, out of sight. fluidity can be slow as our bodies grow, torn piece by...
the women in my family
the women in my family have a bite kinda like a drill driving the nail in, capricious as cats purring when they’d bat about the dead field mice. our reunions striked against the greek myths of the amazons with their javelins; women of the pantheon taking back the chthonian. on thanksgiving evening auntie had a seizure from all the alcohol leaving her system. I remember she looked gone from...
a single tree can grow for centuries without change, without death, and a lioness will watch her prey for hours if time is what it takes. but a man cannot be idle for too long, for laziness has become the mother of all evils. so what is to say of our mothers, who teach us as children all the codes of right and wrong, yet aquinas quotes evil only happens in the presence of the good. should we like...
water, steam, ice
As a kid, I would often pray to God for little things, like when he helped me find a pair of jeans in my size. or when I wanted a song to play on the radio and seconds later it would. our relationship had always been based on the simple acts of coincidence, for whenever I did turn to him for help in a serious way, his omnipresence seemed to have just gone out for lunch. Or maybe it was past 5pm,...
at around six years old it must have been, when for months my hands were more chapped and red than lips during winter time. then by happenstance, one day the film of grime that once coated everything should disappear. that was the first time I noticed my mind playing tricks on me. I had to make countless trips to the bathroom to wash my hands till the water ran with blood, and then I’d put on my...
you are a man who admires the complexities of nature, and therefore give your hands to her to be scarred. but it is a willing fondling, to stand among her beautiful silence. I think sometimes that if I were to fall with no one around, and not make a sound, by my own will or something else, that I would be as beautiful as she. but I could never fall so quietly, unknowingly. I’d get caught up...
there is a certain solace that comes from a lotus flower, like eating ones own death. not like how light can pass through a gate of horn and accept it, but rather death that coddles its fruit seeds in the eyes like a socket. thickly polished ivory weights sunk between green lids, lending no passages to these prophecy’s truthfulness. so when one’s eyes turn milky from cataracts, I...
It seems that my dreams are not what they seem or what I mean is my dreams feel more imaginable lately. as I’m falling asleep and still half awake, it seems to feel stronger in ways like reality / waves of reality but the dreams always turn into nightmares, you saying “it’s not what it seems” though it seems real to me. then I realize you’ve never been in the secret...
a poem about fall
every time is the same, mother executioner descends on her walls of nimbus. I am dark hooded and damp as that dull gray guillotine climbs up my back and I am transformed into a headless woman again; bloodless rider skewered on a stick. my phantom’s limb to be redeemed by sword and steed. but you give me only a dagger that too, is dull, and when I hack at the heads they do not fall. I barely...
“the voice of God is full of draftiness, promising simply the hard stars, the space of immortal blankness between stars and no bodies, singing like arrows up to heaven” -S.P.
Sister Nancy - Bam Bam so lovely
a poem by me, in progress
I was an Alga drifting down, weightless, by a soft breeze that left me flat on the back of a gelatinized black cap; gallons of steaming water and scoriae building beneath me. so when you called to me, it is true i could hear you but i could not respond yet, for fear that the blistered top might pop that the water below would cook me in an instant! & i would fall back into that grave of cold...
Gold Mouths Cry
Gold mouths cry with the green young certainty of the bronze boy remembering a thousand autumns and how a hundred thousand leaves came sliding down his shoulder blades persuaded by his bronze heroic reason. We ignore the coming doom of gold and we are glad in this bright metal season. Even the dead laugh among the goldenrod. The bronze boy stands kneedeep in centuries, and never...
the black crow
i have walked down that long corridor with walls of crude pearls carved out from names, names bleeding the red sap between their grain filthy-toothed gaps ripping off scabs like a flea-bitten bitch I have held my body against theirs taken the heat and wonder why my skin still peels bandaged and torn like vellum stuck to a wet glass — and now as the holly-bushes grow from each narrow sealant...
Wanting to Die
Since you ask, most days I cannot remember. I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage. Then the almost unnameable lust returns. Even then I have nothing against life. I know well the grass blades you mention, the furniture you have placed under the sun. But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. Twice I have so...
Ode to the Maggot
Brother of the blowfly And godhead, you work magic Over battlefields, In slabs of bad pork And flophouses. Yes, you Go to the root of all things. You are sound & mathematical. Jesus, Christ, you’re merciless With the truth. Ontological & lustrous, You cast spells on beggars & kings Behind the stone door of Caesar’s tomb Or split trench in a field of ragweed. No decree or...
Zenith All those regrets Those endless gardens Where the toad modulates a tender cry of azure The doe of bewildered silence moves quickly past A nightingale wounded by love sings upon The roses of your body whose roses I have gathered Our hearts hang together from the same pomegranate tree And the pomegranate flowers hatched in our gaze Falling one by one have strewn the...
The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three by Tristan Tzara where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt lilies my son my son let us always shuffle through the colour of the world which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy we are too thin we have no mouth our legs are stiff and knock together our...