2003-10-13 - 3:51 p.m.
12 CONFUSING TREES
i sit anchored in music near the wind totems
and light chimes arcing back and forth.
dull pain in the teeth. love,
far away from startled houses,
sits and calls
me
tents, forest trails, precisely calibrated to allow me
no option other than to fail in an effort to remember
them are gathering out s i d e
me
I'll let them have this one. the confusing trees are
talking too much, with their owls and birthdays. I'm
tagging along with these october leaves strictly out
of stubborness and a certain desperate hope that just
before the curtain opens someone will hand me a
script. true, truth is never enough. true i'm
stretched thin and tight like canvas, pinned down
between 4 am smoke and whiskey, putting out certain
lights in my mind to make room for others and
bungling, barging mysterious truth I don't believe in
is throwing drinks in the faces of the guests again.
suddenly there's an argument and sundry captains of
sleep have hijacked my body to leap and slash between
warring thought and truth makes agonized stabbing
motions with a flimsy dagger. it is my preordained
role to fall asleep at the most exciting parts and
analyze minutely the times when the actors sit quietly
in chairs and fidget. I've tossed myself in the
corner with these 12 confusing ages of dental floss
and beercan mornings and here I'll stay until I invent
a boat big enough to split light and carry me foggy to
bed.
