February 2011
psalm on a sticky note
‘one day i was
now i am
and
some day i won’t be’
when i was young up north
i chased grasshoppers
thru parched grass
shot bbs at dr. pepper cans on
straw bales
caught bluegill
on jigheads in the water weeds with
some aunt or another
calling for dinner from the top of
the hill and the water sloshed in
the footwells of the paddleboat and
i stank of sunscreen and fish slime
those days exist on calendars long trashed
rotting in a landfill
somewhere out there the memories
among the rest of the
life-offal
years later i’d be pawning guitars
pale and sick and so thin
caught on the needle despite all
the covenants i’d made sidled up
to the aluminum bar at greene’s stuffing sliders
into guts afraid and wobbling, someone
slicing onions in the back the tears almost falling but
never doing so
i remember
my phone hot in my hand
the night my dude ran out and i’d called
maybe 90 times thinking
he’d finally answer and jesus i was sick it came
from both ends i ate half a bottle of seroquel and
got 15 minutes of sleep i was
so awful and the answer as always was the poppy,
the holy poppy
it grieves me some days
to look at it thru the telescope and i think
of what i coulda done differently
the phrase that comes is ‘not much’
really if i hadn’t gutted myself over and over again
in dopebliss or sickness on 94 coming
up the lodge or something not
watching the speedometer some kind of art rap gurgling from
my swollen throat
well had i not that winter, i would
not have this spring
this whirlpool in my chest that swallows all beautiful things
was wound in that fire like a taught cord
let to spin in the darkness that follows now in sleep the green sleep
wherein i dream of kurt cobain
or chris the RA from dfd, of rust,
of moonshine
in striking me down the blow converted me to
seed and when i hit the
earth and the rain fell there
it was some kind of explosion and here i am in yellow sun rooted
in fragrant earth the color
of axle grease
i dream of deserts and scorpions and
i worship the sun
i don’t laze now, i gaze instead, some smile
bending my mouth under
the mustache
and everything ecstatic jubilant and free
in me choirs up in the hall of my throat and on my way
to catch the bus i walk past
other people and i sing:
HELLO
