and close the door.
No one wants to hear this.
No one even hears the streets of cars
sounding
now
like the ocean. No one even recognizes
the sirens.
No one knows the sirens are calling
out the deaths of others. No one notices
where the love is.
No one feels the pain
of the asphalt
wielding under the wheels
of the ambulance’s ringing
its sky-ripping cry thru the street
causing bits of mercurial metal
from space
to drop
from the sky
and warm
the spot
beneath it.
That’s why, back then, Chantelle, I held yr hand
before crossing the street.
I felt young
against
the enlightened
ignorance
of the Siren.
I said: Listen. But
we were both
probably hearing
the same thing, which
was
nothing. The absence
in it
lost
on us,
feeling
so full
of it.
It doesn’t matter, though. I now
feel
pretty stupid for it.
We all get it.
Though most don’t. I feel stupid for thinking
that.
I feel
stu-
pid
[all]most.
However, when in the mud I was running
and shattered my shins,
I kept on
and won
last place. You greeted me there,
granted me yr kiss,
and held me in yr embrace and promised
me
Liberty, the torch I held for you—
how long
in this light?
A laugh out the window
a drumbeat from inside
habitual movement warranted by the situation of being
My sound
sounds like
the window
of a midday
afternoon
covered
by a curtain
usually off-white
or tan in
color
drawn over
a summer
day
warming
the
suburban streets
and the three
trees
growing in
my childhood’s
front lawn
the light
of ambers
and oranges
the light
of oceanic-
ness
wavering
warming
swimming
that light
I felt
will
never
touch
me
again
never feel
I will never reach it
There’s no way
No,
None, it says,
None,
until you drown
in it
and you
never
will
So when I put up a stage
as big
as
the ATLANTIC
against
the backdrop
of NOTHING
don’t be surprised
it looks
a lot
like NYC
and don’t be surprised
the PACIFIC
didn’t win
even though
I’m floating
in it
waiting
for that
big waterbird
with bright red lips
and feathers
that fall out
habitually
and embarrassingly, in fact, I once heard that
waterbird say
with its big bright red lips stretching, “I’m old,
you’ll get here and find my things are not much
different than yrs and how my wings are brittle
so will be yr teeth
so I’ll still swim
and fly
while you’ll
be hoping
you can still cut the dead meat of dead animals up enough
for yrself so no one
else
will have
to do
the halving for you.
And you won’t simply
be able
to escape
yrself
like I do,
since I am
here,
in yr skull
bouncing around
having fun and ringing the alarm when I want to. You heard me,
just now,
and came – or maybe I came to you,
it depends on yr outlook, child. It depends on
who you see
coming to whom. But I’ll say this:
I was here first.
I AM NOT AN ACCIDENT.
I am
a casualty
of the
privileged.
I have NOT
done my duty
even
if those that
have
have done
the not-quite-right
thing. I have
done nothing,
almost nothing at all. And my life has never been on the LINE. My
life
has
just
been
with
in
the
LINE,
almost
always
been
worth
less
than
others. So I found a sense of worthiness when I discovered
Others, I discovered a sense of living thru them, the dead,
the unknowns,
my loves
and
my friends.
I’m sorry for the mistrust or the shenanigans. I’m sorry that
I have to be
drunk
to talk to you,
or you. I’m sorry that I’m only filling space
in this time. Look, now, how the air grows thick! How I wish
I could see the Northern Lights! How I wish I could be
the explosion that started it all in the starry sky! The explosion
that is
a light
in the sky
still trying to find
its way to us
thru millions
of years,
and this explosion
that
did not ask
to start this,
and will have no
need
in the end. What happens
when Betelgeuse
in
Orion’s belt
explodes? Will Orion die?
A border guard guarding NOTHING?
Or will a new constellation be born?
If so,
who has designs on what the outline
will make?
I want
to be
that constellation
from the start.”
handed
down
the horse head
came up from the ground
feet first
facing
west
then racing east
I couldn’t keep up so I stopped
at the store
for a pint of milk
and some cream cheese and bread
When I couldn’t find my train
I knew
I wouldn’
t be bringing home
anything
ever again
and horses in races would fence themselves in
right out of the gate
with braces
for their big teeth
and gauze on their legs
they’d bite down on the dogs nipping
at their feet
and I would pet them both
and feed them cheese
and tell them both to slow down
slow down
We already got in the race
what’s the use
to hurry it up
or get up in arms about it
My drumbeat heart was broken by their silence
and thrummed by their fast feet
My feet are
moving
slowly
these days
I crossed the street
past the trolley tracks
onto the curb
I heard
the bell jingling behind me
and gunshots
hitting the sky
I probably forgot something
I should get better
at writing
lists
When I was a kid
my folks would
drive me and my sister
out into the country
when October rolled its big orange ass above us
for caramel apples
and hot cider
and to feed the horses
The cattails whipped each other
before my sister and I plucked them
to beat each other with them
The horses all plodded behind the fences
sticking their faces in the grasses
galloping up to us
all brown or grey
only when we
stuck our hands out
sometimes finding they were tricked
by an empty hand
which they would sometimes sneeze on
But in the low light
of October outdoorsyness
the horsies would lick our palms
for the salt
and wait for cubes of sugar
I would feed them apples
with a flat
open palm
not wanting to lose
my fingers
All hot breath and snot
[I did that
three different falls
until my brother
lost his arm
In elementary school
I had a friend
his name
was Robert Teapolt
we would make him sing
“I am a Teapolt short and stout”
We would all
all laugh
Robert Teapolt
once invited me
and Jason Jackson
over to the ranch he lived on
His father was stout and solid
and owned cows, goats, and horses
Robert told us how a rubber band
was used to neuter the bulls
and how riding horses
gives you a boner
Robert didn’t say much
about the goats
We fell asleep in the ranch house
late that night
after seven episodes
of Lonesome Dove
and woke early
to scoop up tadpoles in jars
and run under a flat
Sacramento sky
just to look at the dirt
and run
Later after riding the horses
and not getting a boner
I went home to the suburbs
and rode my bike around the block
107 times
I counted
and told my
mom about it
I learned about Orpheus
only after
losing
my virginity
I think it happened somewhere
around
the Summer Olympics
When someone
got convicted
of a bombing
he
didn’t
commit
and my bedroom
was full of
jumping spiders
coming out of the walls
and carpet
That’s when I heard about it—
the bombing
not yet
Orpheus
sometime around the time
Jessica and I
made love
four or five times
for the first time
ever
in my upstairs bedroom
of my parents’ house—
wait
I think there was one time
in the shower
too
and my parents were gone
for the weekend
and I was 19
and very young
for my age
There was
a grapefruit orchard
just down the street
and a small ravine
or canyon
full of coyotes
We may have walked thru there once
kicking around
the dropped fruit
but never picking it up to eat it
covered in leafs of shadow
and yellow light
and no occupations
I had
absolutely
no understanding
of this
as Romance
while new houses
that would never be bought
were being built
50 yards away
from us
and the trailer park
and I would never
ever
be a lead singer
and the two years
of guitar lessons
wouldn’t help
because I don’t know a real discipline
This is what living in a small
desert town
was like
There were no horses
in Brawley
except for where there were
they were
kept
in smallish
pens
and the air was
filled with sand
and the thick
smell of cow shit
Back then
Chris Grant and I
worked as
pizza delivery guys
Which is
more
of what
living in a small desert town
was like
Getting drunk
in El Centro
one town over
because they had more bars
and wouldn’t check IDs
and if we decided to
we could go
down to Mexicali
in Baja
for dance clubs
and Dos Equis
and then
the backyard
strip clubs
I had
very few
ones
and didn’t know what to do with them
until Grant
six years older than me
used them
to buy more drinks
so we could just sit
and watch
then when we were headed back
over the border
the border guard would say,
“Where are you from?”
and I would answer,
“California,” and Grant would
say, “No, no, no.
Yr supposed to say:
USA.”
Mostly
I was afraid
the guard would know
I was drinking
and underage
But of course he did
Then
cl
eared
we’d walk right into
Calexico USA
and I didn’t
see
a difference
I couldn’t calculate the means of an end ended there
by the bare thread
of an umbilicaled thought
paired with
faulty memory
and harrowed indulgence
caught
off
guard
I couldn’t stand
for it
Couldn’t break out of the groove the record
maker
had cut into
me
before
placing
the needle
in me
to find
I couldn’t
sing
a
tune
Let alone
the one
the radio
wanted
to hear
People on the Atlantic coast
were falling off
their rockers
when
I brought
my voice
to their ears
Couples in Europe
were
drowning
in
my thoughts
when in
their water
beds
I didn’t know
I could do so much
But I can
I can open it up
can store it
and break it up
I will crack
the code
left
to us
by Nostradamus
or was it Newton
Maybe it was Nixon
My Revelation
will be
that my books
have an end
but I know
that can’t
be
My roaming
is just
an
orbit
from
having
fallen
off
Humans & Horses Page 3
