watching me

i pour a glass

of Asian tea

and read the books,

you never read

i am a

pompous cat.

and just before

you come back

i put the books

back on the rack

and i slip off

your fancy slacks

and clean up all my crap.

so when you open

up the door

and see me lying

on the floor

you'll think i'm just

a little cat

with nothing there

but fur and fat.

ring beside me through the snow
into my chest and sink below
my lungs and push out a breath
that i've kept...
from long ago.

colors in my clothing fade,
the soul gets old as the shoe decays,
have you put enough dollar bills away
for your...
parent's graves

and yet I feel the creases graze
across my eyes each passing day
like the sound of kitchen plastic
crunching...
in my hand.

not from age, from walking on
a crooked ladder whereupon
I balance, weary, grasping at
a rail...
made of sand. 

and so i stumble, shuffle down
from suit to white, hospital gown
with pictures freezing memories
for...
the mind's decay.

and all i ask, is when i fade
to see the path my parent's laid
and hear my mother speaking out,
"do not
   be afraid."

like a bunch of animals in space.

sometimes
you stick a
"do not disturb sign"
on your ear

and yet they still come a knocking.

and they tuck the sheets in too tight.

sometimes
the salt pours too fast
and
sometimes
you can't sleep at all.

and sometimes
you just don't care how flawed
you are
or how many clients may

read

your

secrets.

sometimes you just have to let it fly
with tired eyes
and just shake your head
and hope for the best.

because sometimes the day owns you.
and
sometimes the night is rough.

and sometimes you
just have to hang up your coat
and retire
worn,
dazed
and
defeated.




 

Not everyone will listen,
but some will.

And it's very possible that when you do this,
whatever you're saying,
will crest the peak of
what some may call
"a colossal pile of horse shit".

But if you say it with
conviction and purpose,
and a tear in the eye,
people will listen.

Because speaking from the heart
will ALWAYS turn some heads.

Even if the words were formed
completely in your ass.

 

You can't just serve up some
empty blanket claim
and expect me to bite. 

Don't you know that
you're perjuring yourself
with those words?

For God's sakes, you stupid, local restaurant...

your burger is not

"World Famous".

But then I think:
Yet, there's got to be some way to
harness this fire, poetically, outside the usual
literary terms and devices?

Here is this thing, that is engrained in our history
as a savior of mankind.
It brought us warmth and light, security and nutriment.
Yet it is also this dangerous beast, capable of destroying
entire civilizations, and even the entire human race
if the conditions were right.

And it's right here in my house.

There's just this CAGE OF FIRE in my living room.

And when it gets hungry, I feed it logs.
Because it likes logs.
And even though it seems alive,
it's okay to kill it.
I'm just not supposed to let it out of its cage,
because it's kind of crazy
and has a very broad appetite. 

There's nothing like fire.
Sure, there are beautiful parallels:
Her bright, redwood hair unfolding in the sunlight,
like fire.
A flurry of cardinals in a windstorm, spiraling into the clouds,
like fire.

But we've heard it all before.
And I need to let this go

and stop trying
to harness

this

fire.

A herd of Black Angus cattle scattered across a white,
sunbleached, crusted desert off of I-40 in New Mexico.
Tiny, black dots among an arid, fallow field
that look like cracked black pepper on a slice of old, dry toast.

And there by the side of the road is a dented highway guard rail
all crumbled in the median around a smashed cement divider
lying wasted among cookie crumbs of concrete
and wrecked rebar that fans out of the wreckage like wirey fingers
or twisted pipe cleaners
or bent hangers wrestling in the trash.

And finally, a roadside cross
decorated with dusty, silk roses
and a loose, plastic grocery sack
that whips violently in the desert wind
yet manages to hang on
by a single loop of plastic that
never
lets
go.

right now, you are free.

and for as long as you can remember,
you have always had a desire to
give something to the world.

you may not be doing what you want to do
right now,

but you have the desire. 

and that is powerful.

and you must carry that with you.

because it is what makes you.

don't ever allow yourself
to forget
the fact
that despite
what the other voices tell you...

you will matter.