Friday, September 12, 2008

No Bonus





Others always seem to land on both feet,
and are frequenters of regular occurrences.

They fill their private energies with chambers,
and the most beautiful falling buildings ever.

This begs the question: what’s over except the end
credits? And haven’t they always been playing?

When the plains were unsettled, yesterday, a maid
as lovely as a martian, and so she was, dwelled on it.

The images of her lover, the unfamiliar concept
of love, these impulses overcame her and she wept.

Came the 23rd, in the early evening, magic hour
the photographer called it, the syrup was ready.

A marriage is about to be performed. In one
vineyard a girl not quite of age, in another

thousands of miles away a small black pony.
The mystery of arrangements left to chance.

In his dotage, an old man, on Mars, misses her
though she existed only in his private theater.

He rails from a fixed position, wars on against
the imagined foes of his home, his only friends.






Mothers possess unerring senses of equilibrium,
although many freefall in their minds in their off time.

Those lifters don’t operate by privilege alone, they go
when the girl with the boots and sap tell them to.

Where do all these technical people come from? Is it
a storage facility with cafeteria hidden underground?

The black of surrounding space only looks unrelieved
from here, it’s really a fragile map. Women can see this.

A blanket as the symbol of devotion. A limit as the sign
of understanding the lack of movement in a frame.

He vowed to remove all math from her sight, fell short
of stripping every number from her knowledge of the stars.

There is a ceremony, you are not invited, you are
the sacrificial fruit of the tree, the missing man in flight.

As clouds of dust are made to make to you cough,
as clouds of smoke are made to make you call a loved one.

There is a fixed black dot in a white field. Is this field
space? Is this information to be shared with others?

The cancerous tumor the size of an orange, a tangerine,
a golf ball. We have so many things to thank you for.