CALL ME BARBARA

You said it was always easiest this way,
your way, roses in your eyes- no, it’s the big cloud
hanging over Hiroshima. A heart of gold glass, heart eyes
like nuclear summertime. We call you Fallout in wintertime,
listen, I got my eyes growing from the ground, thinking we all need to start somewhere. Me, I’m middle earth. I ask you how it could be so
hot in the middle of home, melted glimmer gloss on the glass window, when it shatters
I say, I hope it shines like barbie’s dream Home.
Inside Home, I feel her crying, a big balloon blown up so big, an explosion
might do her some good, they keep on giving her that white glass to keep her
cold in core. Heart eyes, I think Home could be somewhere else. A boat treading water in the middle of a glass red sea, I beg I don’t want to sleep in water.

You said, it’s the only way,
your way, boat eyes, the big white one! It’s you!
Watch me spin around in this dress made
up of fire flies, can’t catch you yet, big one.
Bit at the knee makes the gold glass shatter, Heart eyes,
Big one, look at me! I’m neon white, a billion bees quake in my heart space,
doctor won’t let apiaries grow up in an aorta.

Look Home, It’s neon white in night time, stolen wrist watch time. Turn the sand upside down, backwards, whatever you got to do, meet Columbus in the glass sea, bit at the knee, get him before he gets you.
Her aorta as big as the core in middle earth, neon white heat escaping from those big heart eyes. Your liquid voice underneath the Home door, whispers loud as bee buzz, pollinating the glass floor cracks,
‘smile baby, the world ain’t so bad.’

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THE SKY DID FALL

Was it always bluebirds?
Upside down, a paradise
left golden hot red?

Could it be the fur
on the belly of a rabbit?
The deep glow of an iris
tie died blue green together.

Creek of the grasshopper
outside the blue window,
clementine sun-sky
sometime early morning,
humming iridescent opal
hanging on its side, the deep
blue dark night time, the leonids did call
for you, the bees asleep in their cribs, the buzzing,
it’s you, deep dark voice like night time,
paradise golden, the big boom of the sky falling
for november, just like Lincoln saw too, baby moon
the sun burns hot red, your feet
burned, bluebirds singing,
tied together, the sky does not shatter,
the big bloom of the circle sky opals,
the leonids did call on you, me, tied together.

 

Toxic – Or, An Imagination of What The Sun Looks Like When She is Exploding, Imploding

The sun is imploding, or does she
ex-plode like the core of a rat
twisting insides out?

It is the end
of something, sure of it.
She has turned herself
upside down to that Britney
song, outstretched like an ostrich’s
arm, reaching for the devil’s cup.

No, it wasn’t Britney-
when the core is frozen over,
they prescribe that American Idol
girl, that’s how they do it, too much ash –

It is time to turn on
the rope, it is the hum,
no, the purr of a mouse,
upstairs it is not the sun,
they decided her stinger would melt
in the white with the bees,
instead the grey collapses in, yellow
or the color of stone, the cat is waking up
the neighbors barking, it is the end of something,
sure of it, it is the sound of static, no –
she could talk to the moon, an old friend, heart is
so heavy like a bandaid, is it still buzzing, too much ash,
she’s toxic, she’s slipping, upside down under, the sun does explode,
they’ve decided on that, sure of it, no, it was Britney, sure of it, do her eyes still
look blue under the microscope, don’t be absurd, it’s all viscera now, whatever-
do we feel sorry for her now.

I Know You Can Hear Me

You are the pilot of our rocketship
straight to the earth’s core. Me, I think we can
beat the heat, or hope Lehmann is wrong.

You say you’ve never been afraid of anything, I say
me too.

The best therapy is a bad idea,
but I spill my guts – it doesn’t work.

I am scared there isn’t cell
reception in hell, I’ll have to write a letter,
but the postage is too much from here
to there-

I think of myself in parallel universes,
there I am happy.