Humans & Horses Page 3

and close the door.

  No one wants to hear this.

  No one even hears the streets of cars

  sounding

  now

  like the ocean. No one even recognizes

  the sirens.

  No one knows the sirens are calling

  out the deaths of others. No one notices

  where the love is.

  No one feels the pain

  of the asphalt

  wielding under the wheels

  of the ambulance’s ringing

  its sky-ripping cry thru the street

  causing bits of mercurial metal

  from space

  to drop

  from the sky

  and warm

  the spot

  beneath it.

  That’s why, back then, Chantelle, I held yr hand

  before crossing the street.

  I felt young

  against

  the enlightened

  ignorance

  of the Siren.

  I said: Listen. But

  we were both

  probably hearing

  the same thing, which

  was

  nothing. The absence

  in it

  lost

  on us,

  feeling

  so full

  of it.

  It doesn’t matter, though. I now

  feel

  pretty stupid for it.

  We all get it.

  Though most don’t. I feel stupid for thinking

  that.

  I feel

  stu-

  pid

  [all]most.

  However, when in the mud I was running

  and shattered my shins,

  I kept on

  and won

  last place. You greeted me there,

  granted me yr kiss,

  and held me in yr embrace and promised

  me

  Liberty, the torch I held for you—

  how long

  in this light?

  A laugh out the window

  a drumbeat from inside

  habitual movement warranted by the situation of being

  My sound

  sounds like

  the window

  of a midday

  afternoon

  covered

  by a curtain

  usually off-white

  or tan in

  color

  drawn over

  a summer

  day

  warming

  the

  suburban streets

  and the three

  trees

  growing in

  my childhood’s

  front lawn

  the light

  of ambers

  and oranges

  the light

  of oceanic-

  ness

  wavering

  warming

  swimming

  that light

  I felt

  will

  never

  touch

  me

  again

  never feel

  I will never reach it

  There’s no way

  No,

  None, it says,

  None,

  until you drown

  in it

  and you

  never

  will

  So when I put up a stage

  as big

  as

  the ATLANTIC

  against

  the backdrop

  of NOTHING

  don’t be surprised

  it looks

  a lot

  like NYC

  and don’t be surprised

  the PACIFIC

  didn’t win

  even though

  I’m floating

  in it

  waiting

  for that

  big waterbird

  with bright red lips

  and feathers

  that fall out

  habitually

  and embarrassingly, in fact, I once heard that

  waterbird say

  with its big bright red lips stretching, “I’m old,

  you’ll get here and find my things are not much

  different than yrs and how my wings are brittle

  so will be yr teeth

  so I’ll still swim

  and fly

  while you’ll

  be hoping

  you can still cut the dead meat of dead animals up enough

  for yrself so no one

  else

  will have

  to do

  the halving for you.

  And you won’t simply

  be able

  to escape

  yrself

  like I do,

  since I am

  here,

  in yr skull

  bouncing around

  having fun and ringing the alarm when I want to. You heard me,

  just now,

  and came – or maybe I came to you,

  it depends on yr outlook, child. It depends on

  who you see

  coming to whom. But I’ll say this:

  I was here first.

  I AM NOT AN ACCIDENT.

  I am

  a casualty

  of the

  privileged.

  I have NOT

  done my duty

  even

  if those that

  have

  have done

  the not-quite-right

  thing. I have

  done nothing,

  almost nothing at all. And my life has never been on the LINE. My

  life

  has

  just

  been

  with

  in

  the

  LINE,

  almost

  always

  been

  worth

  less

  than

  others. So I found a sense of worthiness when I discovered

  Others, I discovered a sense of living thru them, the dead,

  the unknowns,

  my loves

  and

  my friends.

  I’m sorry for the mistrust or the shenanigans. I’m sorry that

  I have to be

  drunk

  to talk to you,

  or you. I’m sorry that I’m only filling space

  in this time. Look, now, how the air grows thick! How I wish

  I could see the Northern Lights! How I wish I could be

  the explosion that started it all in the starry sky! The explosion

  that is

  a light

  in the sky

  still trying to find

  its way to us

  thru millions

  of years,

  and this explosion

  that

  did not ask

  to start this,

  and will have no

  need

  in the end. What happens

  when Betelgeuse

  in

  Orion’s belt

  explodes? Will Orion die?

  A border guard guarding NOTHING?

  Or will a new constellation be born?

  If so,

  who has designs on what the outline

  will make?

  I want

  to be

  that constellation

  from the start.”

  handed

  down

  the horse head

  came up from the ground

  feet first

  facing

  west

  then racing east

  I couldn’t keep up so I stopped

  at the store

  for a pint of milk

  and some cream cheese and bread

  When I couldn’t find my train

  I knew

  I wouldn’
t be bringing home

  anything

  ever again

  and horses in races would fence themselves in

  right out of the gate

  with braces

  for their big teeth

  and gauze on their legs

  they’d bite down on the dogs nipping

  at their feet

  and I would pet them both

  and feed them cheese

  and tell them both to slow down

  slow down

  We already got in the race

  what’s the use

  to hurry it up

  or get up in arms about it

  My drumbeat heart was broken by their silence

  and thrummed by their fast feet

  My feet are

  moving

  slowly

  these days

  I crossed the street

  past the trolley tracks

  onto the curb

  I heard

  the bell jingling behind me

  and gunshots

  hitting the sky

  I probably forgot something

  I should get better

  at writing

  lists

  When I was a kid

  my folks would

  drive me and my sister

  out into the country

  when October rolled its big orange ass above us

  for caramel apples

  and hot cider

  and to feed the horses

  The cattails whipped each other

  before my sister and I plucked them

  to beat each other with them

  The horses all plodded behind the fences

  sticking their faces in the grasses

  galloping up to us

  all brown or grey

  only when we

  stuck our hands out

  sometimes finding they were tricked

  by an empty hand

  which they would sometimes sneeze on

  But in the low light

  of October outdoorsyness

  the horsies would lick our palms

  for the salt

  and wait for cubes of sugar

  I would feed them apples

  with a flat

  open palm

  not wanting to lose

  my fingers

  All hot breath and snot

  [I did that

  three different falls

  until my brother

  lost his arm

  In elementary school

  I had a friend

  his name

  was Robert Teapolt

  we would make him sing

  “I am a Teapolt short and stout”

  We would all

  all laugh

  Robert Teapolt

  once invited me

  and Jason Jackson

  over to the ranch he lived on

  His father was stout and solid

  and owned cows, goats, and horses

  Robert told us how a rubber band

  was used to neuter the bulls

  and how riding horses

  gives you a boner

  Robert didn’t say much

  about the goats

  We fell asleep in the ranch house

  late that night

  after seven episodes

  of Lonesome Dove

  and woke early

  to scoop up tadpoles in jars

  and run under a flat

  Sacramento sky

  just to look at the dirt

  and run

  Later after riding the horses

  and not getting a boner

  I went home to the suburbs

  and rode my bike around the block

  107 times

  I counted

  and told my

  mom about it

  I learned about Orpheus

  only after

  losing

  my virginity

  I think it happened somewhere

  around

  the Summer Olympics

  When someone

  got convicted

  of a bombing

  he

  didn’t

  commit

  and my bedroom

  was full of

  jumping spiders

  coming out of the walls

  and carpet

  That’s when I heard about it—

  the bombing

  not yet

  Orpheus

  sometime around the time

  Jessica and I

  made love

  four or five times

  for the first time

  ever

  in my upstairs bedroom

  of my parents’ house—

  wait

  I think there was one time

  in the shower

  too

  and my parents were gone

  for the weekend

  and I was 19

  and very young

  for my age

  There was

  a grapefruit orchard

  just down the street

  and a small ravine

  or canyon

  full of coyotes

  We may have walked thru there once

  kicking around

  the dropped fruit

  but never picking it up to eat it

  covered in leafs of shadow

  and yellow light

  and no occupations

  I had

  absolutely

  no understanding

  of this

  as Romance

  while new houses

  that would never be bought

  were being built

  50 yards away

  from us

  and the trailer park

  and I would never

  ever

  be a lead singer

  and the two years

  of guitar lessons

  wouldn’t help

  because I don’t know a real discipline

  This is what living in a small

  desert town

  was like

  There were no horses

  in Brawley

  except for where there were

  they were

  kept

  in smallish

  pens

  and the air was

  filled with sand

  and the thick

  smell of cow shit

  Back then

  Chris Grant and I

  worked as

  pizza delivery guys

  Which is

  more

  of what

  living in a small desert town

  was like

  Getting drunk

  in El Centro

  one town over

  because they had more bars

  and wouldn’t check IDs

  and if we decided to

  we could go

  down to Mexicali

  in Baja

  for dance clubs

  and Dos Equis

  and then

  the backyard

  strip clubs

  I had

  very few

  ones

  and didn’t know what to do with them

  until Grant

  six years older than me

  used them

  to buy more drinks

  so we could just sit

  and watch

  then when we were headed back

  over the border

  the border guard would say,

  “Where are you from?”

  and I would answer,

  “California,” and Grant would

  say, “No, no, no.

  Yr supposed to say:

  USA.”

  Mostly

  I was afraid

  the guard would know

  I was drinking

  and underage

  But of course he did

  Then

  cl
eared

  we’d walk right into

  Calexico USA

  and I didn’t

  see

  a difference

  I couldn’t calculate the means of an end ended there

  by the bare thread

  of an umbilicaled thought

  paired with

  faulty memory

  and harrowed indulgence

  caught

  off

  guard

  I couldn’t stand

  for it

  Couldn’t break out of the groove the record

  maker

  had cut into

  me

  before

  placing

  the needle

  in me

  to find

  I couldn’t

  sing

  a

  tune

  Let alone

  the one

  the radio

  wanted

  to hear

  People on the Atlantic coast

  were falling off

  their rockers

  when

  I brought

  my voice

  to their ears

  Couples in Europe

  were

  drowning

  in

  my thoughts

  when in

  their water

  beds

  I didn’t know

  I could do so much

  But I can

  I can open it up

  can store it

  and break it up

  I will crack

  the code

  left

  to us

  by Nostradamus

  or was it Newton

  Maybe it was Nixon

  My Revelation

  will be

  that my books

  have an end

  but I know

  that can’t

  be

  My roaming

  is just

  an

  orbit

  from

  having

  fallen

  off