Humans & Horses Page 4
something
just
far
enough
I’ll stick to it
because I have no choice
And in this circling
I’ll collect
bits of
stardust
and stuff
the universe
has made of us
and I’ll pass
satellites
and satellites will pass
me as comets come
and comets go
and asteroids
burn up
in the atmosphere
while I watch the black
for gamma rays
to show me
where
this all began
And in this circling
circling in it
swirling as
the soup is
served up stirring
steaming up
from the
bottom
down spinning
coming back
to the same
thing
again and again
Guess what?
No one wins
Not even
by the skin
of my teeth
While I still have them
Off course
it was nice
to take a day trip
in the car
of my mind
down
memory lane
But why?
I recall the past
like I recall the future
a Mobius strip
with both ends
meeting
in the
third dimension
unlike
its
comic
cousin
I’m waiting
for the
sequel
It’s been in production
for too many
years
I’m tired
of reading
rumors
about it
on the Internet
where I can get news
from the Horse Tracks
about why
we can’t elect
the right
President
and why
promotions
are often spent
in a
missed direction
as if
the horse
could run
clockwise
it does
a little toy horse
as
the second
hand
on the clock
by my office
window
spins down
the right
way
though the
real horse
races
with the sun
catching Apollo
with disturbing
looks
on his faces and filling
up
the room with
ice and salt
when they’re both gone
waiting for one
to return for one
and the other
for the other
I’ll spare the rooftops
my second story glances
of retelling
my everyday-ness
Making phone calls
to call
the shadows
down
the shades
drawn
the ink of
it
lost
to another blurred memory
My sense of history
is a boss
A cool
blue
summer
9a.m.
morning
full
of
front yards
each
with trees
small shadows
and cars
in driveways
with basketball hoops
over the garage door
and one-speed
BMX bikes
left
in the gutter
the cool
blue
summer
9a.m. smell
of cut grass
and the old Mustang’s
exhaust
till the sun runs
over yr
head
and beats you down
till you’ve got
nowhere else
to go
but the movie theater
to watch a
Chevy Chase
or Sylvester Stallone
movie
and waiting patiently
after
to sneak into
another one
as those two
are in
every movie
these days
waiting out
the burning patience
of the sun
and the slightly
fried front lawns
some breeze
That memory
now often called:
Twilight.
No big mouthed waterbirds
come to me
now
I still find myself walking
just above
sea level
at the start of the morning
till I’m
right
on course
with it
The Bay
but not the ocean
though they be
both
one
in the same
though there’s
no bridges
over the ocean
yet
no brides’
mangled
wishes
spent
from an equidistant
acquiescence
No cross hung
from overhead
like Apollo’s cross
which we’re not
allowed
to look at
directly
I walk down
to the level
of the sea
but never into it
And,
like you,
I don’t even hear it.
I hear buses keeping routes
and tour guides
keeping to the script.
It’s getting
more difficult
to hear the landscape
of accident
, or
on accident.
The ocean just
looks like a lot of water
and I have
a head
full of sand.
There is
almost always
tomorrow.
And
no lead
in.
Yr say
ants
is the
same
thing
as
they
say
when
the rain
fills all
the holes
and we
mingle
with
the worms
in the
warm oils
and smell
of asphalt
till it all
all stops
and we all
all go
back
into
our
holes
for good
good
good
For
see
able
FUTURES
you
should
ex-
it
THE BRAIN PAN
take a ride
with Toucan Sam
to the island
&
nbsp; of
rainbow umbrellas
and checkered
flags
the mouth
of
the bird
is red
We, the Lollipop Guild,
now
respectfully
ask you for
yr bets
yr bees
yr hornets’ nests
yr bouquets
and yr
love
and to
stand
aside
while we dance
until the Police
kick in
yr
head
Apples and Oranges
which tree is it
you pick?
The MIND
is GANG
green
a vegetable
in the
making
What I’m saying
is:
LOSE
It.
Eight bells rung
EIGHT BELLES is down
we ran
a tight race
on cracking ankles angling in
the finish line like fish on it
were tripping
up themselves
on baitless hooks because baitless hooks
were
THE END—
the Where we’re supposed to get
gathering the nails
in my feet
EIGHT BELLES
for remembrance of the EARTH
and place-
ment
SOME KIND OF MANAGEMENT
and the race
we’re in
a whole planet
ready to be
shot
for pulling up LAME
I already cannot
rest myself
for a splinting
I haven’t a LEG to stand on
the splintering of my bones
happened
at the starting gate
or with the whipping
I can’t recall
my bells are ringing
the horns were sounding
the crowds are cheering
and my legs did fail
specifically my ankles
which will break
andcrumple
like papier-mâché
I was never meant
to capture the lead
the lead in my teeth
tastes like second place
I’m made out of br i tt le
I’ll squeal for a meal
a trough
THE DEATH OF ME
FINISHING FIRST
a trainer
to beat me
into
submission
I only WANT to win
but a brushing
is often
nice
If I were in Kentucky I would have made
a wheelchair
for broken horsies
already
Where’s the spoils
for a slight victory? Why must you
feel the need to put a bullet
in the back of my head
so quickly?
Or would you kill me with a sledge hammer?
Wouldn’t it be neater
just to put
too many sleeping pills
in my feed?
Why must I hear the bells ring?
They don’t tell you this in Sunday School
but that’s the sound of
angels screaming
not the sound
of them
growing
wings
What would you have done
if I finished first?
With my
deterioration?
My EIGHT BELLES
of the ball
we are
marely
passed
and this is no PROM
and, sadly, I had no money
for yr corsage
And I hate to disappoint
so many
with how cheap I am
What could we have done
to make it last?
Not begun?
The choice is placed
in the sound
of
a gun
MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSERACE!
My kingdom
for a horse
“She ran the race of her
life. She went
out
in glory.”
“She didn’t get
bumped.”
“She’s our family.”
And the Earth is infected
with a terrible affliction
called Gravity
and everything Earth makes
just sticks
sticks to its skin
and its guts
its guns
So every now and again
the Earth shakes
to try to remove
all the dust mites
crust
debris
and us
Then hundreds
of thousands
of humans
and horses
fall into
the cracked earth
from quakes
or into
the big waves
washed over
their space
from miles away
the horizon
comes on
in a white line
turns
into
water
and they all
push
push their big teeth
up
toward the top
with the roofs
of their mouths
their
fallen
house
thru a
suffocation
sound
that’s sad
and sick
trying to breathe
in again
the sad
sound
of deaths
till the Earth
afflicted with gravity
which
afflicts
also
the afflicted
the affliction
and the afflicting
stops moving
and the horse hooves
quit kicking
up the dirt
by the fences
near the grasses
the masses
under umbrellas
and hats
and Apollo’s
juvenile
warmth
or thru salt water
where the Earth’s shrugged shoulders
shrugged
again and again
and men and women
in helmets
scurry over the destruction
the rubble
the cars
and houses
legs
arms
and heads
split in half,
where bridges fell
on them
or boulders
rolled thru them,
yanking
out
our teeth
and pulling out
the nails
from our feet
one by one
by one
by one
until something else
decides
for the Earth
that its affliction
is not enough
to end it
and that
now
now
now
now is a good time
a good time
a good time
a good time to stop
Forcing my way out of the waterbird’s big fat red lips
I danced with my head
in my hands
my soft sweet mouth singing
a little lullaby to me
while my eyes rolled over and over again in
the ecstasy of the
extrication
and the beakless bird lay
somewhere behind me
somewhere somewhat near
convulsing
tearing out its feathers
and puncturing its belly till it
ruptured
like
a firecracker
full of confetti and concern
while I did look behind me
to see it happen
I was too happy
to be out of the race
headless
and floating
somewhere maybe
in outer space
which looks a lot
like home
near the ocean
and vacated beaches
vacated because the vacuum
had been released
and everything
went shooting off
bright and brilliant and easily
more fantastic
than anything I could have thought
up
before
my jingling teeth jingling like bells
and the tracks along
my face
are run only with the glow of sweat
glowing by
the day’s and night’s end
the sound of a million guns
silenced
and the sound of the drumming
feet
my feet
the end of this my feet which end like nothing else