there's a rainbow of wrath and passion, somewhere.

 

 

 

I lied.

 

There are some people on earth

that from now to the end of my days

I will never speak to again.

Which means, unlike what I suggested,

I didn't heal.

I made South Caroline islands

out of sacrifice. Swallowed

Mississippi river tongues of hate,

just to get here.

Somewhere,

where good works awaken.

I loved you more than the

sugar cane brake

loved the season of discovery.

Now hold that thought.

 

Being free means that place

in the poem where one speaks

of unreal reasons, out of body stuff,

magic tricks and people with wings.

If you have a cat then why have 4,

if not to spin the shoelace in the cat

circle 4 squared.

 

In other words,

why me and not any-other-soul-to-be?

And I haven't felt this way since

my thirties, the last time I ran, as

I remembered,

for the bus to you're raggedy house

and you're drunken father. He's in

the grave now poisoning the ground

water with the Royal Canadian he

called his blood

 

the same blood he said he left

in the jungles of Laos, which

couldn't be verified and who tried?

"Nixon saved us!" He would screem

between dozing off.

"Nixon saved the universe!"

 

And who would argue?

Reviews

[LJW]

I'm feeling a relationship here. Two cracked people, at least one (you) who professed to be wholly intact. The other, of course in retrospect, more crack than vase from the jump.
Look at the bloodline, perhaps needing to go no further back than her father, leeching sickness into the ground water.

In a sense, you attracted the unwell by virtue of your own unwellness. We are the unforgiven forgiving or the unforgivable. There are those who don't merit our forgiveness yet continue to invade our memories because they cannot be forgotten. We turn cheek and heel and "move on" and they pack a suitcase and move in down the block.

There are some I will never speak to again as well. I can live with it. It's living with a lie that I can't live with.

Insightful, real, intelligent writing.