Poets and writers drink more intensely. Smoke more intensely. Worship God more intensely. Poets and writers fuck more intensely. Poets and writers give more willingly-- spilling the alphabetical marrow of their souls out into the albino sonogram of hope that is the page, hoping some stranger whom he or she has never before met turns to his crafted syllables in time of dire need and somehow finds solace, finds laughter finds a friend.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Prairie Recalcitrance (meditation on the platitude, “We can always rebuild another home, we can’t rebuild another…”)
Recalcitrance (meditation on the platitude, “We can always rebuild another
home, we can’t rebuild another…”)
genetically replicate the second person pronoun
that is your persona, your grace.
Can’t reconstruct the lumber of your anatomy
Midwest marrow, hinge barrel shoulder
Can’t replant the Ceramic tiling of your
Sheet paneling forehead
carpeting of your tongue.
always rebuild another domicile, we can’t rebuild
The Interior plaster of your forearms
The cradle of
Joist of your
spindle of your inner thighs.
We can splatter chemical aggregates
Into a concrete moat, we can’t
Shingle blinks into your eyelashes
Drywall the berm of your kneecaps
Splice casings into the winch of your smile.
We can frame more photographs, erect
A garage to house cardboard boxes
Fraught with Christmas lights and fishing poles.
We can build a closet with question mark hangers.
Furbish a living room with upholstery, linen scrim.
We can always rebuild another Thirty year mortgage
drained with coupons and property taxes.
We can’t rebuild the chalk masonry of your mandible
Secret ridges of your scapula
The Mortise and tenon of your hips, can’t
Re-Plaster the fist of your kidneys
Wainscot the tongue and groove of your cheekbones
Re-wire the Circuit breaker of your aortic
We can rebuild subdivisions
out of topiary and Tupperware.
We can’t thread the conductors of your chromosomes
Fit the P-trap
occluded behind the button of your naval