Sunday, April 1, 2012

Poem one

& nearer he's to settling

Seymour climbs the bagged recyclables mountain
in the pantry kitchen smells like a sandwich
last night I made thinking tomorrow I won't remember
how this tastes I dreamt we had a visiting writer
& no one was allowed to drive because he/she was allergic
to traffic sounds the train stopped too or went unheard
(no one actually met the aurally sensitive writer) this left me
stranded at someone's house who I guess wanted me
& I didn't want her but we made-do on a disheveled futon
eating her mother's frozen lasagne in one
of those after-sex poses altho there was no sex just fear
of emotional entanglement it was dark outside constantly pre-dawn
there was the threat of aerial bombing maybe the visiting
writer made this up either way I had to go I had to find
the way back Home or somewhere where I felt this I stole
her car & drove it recklessly driving dreams are always
terrifying often there's a steering wheel melting
& disconnected brakes but this time I don't feel threatened
it's fine there is control I drive against one-ways & over
medians there are no other moving vehicles few
pedestrians the car fits on the narrowest footpaths
of the arboretum the trees are lit the air glows a little gnome
family hides in every recess celebrating maybe
it is new years in gnome-time & I find a human couple
hiding from the distant blasts each looks happy to be
holding the other my driving frightens them I drive up
every path & down I want them to leave to occupy
this magic place alone have it for myself but Minnie
wants petting & Seymour wants wrestling they wrestle
til they roll off the bed they are so in love if I had a nicer place
I tell myself it'd be kept cleaner I'd mop & dust
put books back maybe Seymour would stop eating the covers
dishes would be washed immediately after use
I'd go back to standing while I work
I wouldn't waste money on late night taco bell
binges or alcove cocktails (I pay for the atmosphere)
I would finish things early & utilize my netflix account
you said paying for something will make me
use it maybe if I were healthier last week I filled
the vegetable drawer with assorted peppers parsnips
artichoke brussels rutabega tomatillos baby eggplant
red onion yellow squash green avocado I'm letting them all spoil
& rot in open defiance of Life because I can't
remember the last thing I even half-enjoyed who's kidding
who bitch gather your fucking rosebuds


Maybe my joke poem (fauxem) "uninaugural" is valid as any in a poem-a-day excercise––actually I prefer it to this one––, but we'll make this the real inaugural poem of my NaPoWriMo adventures, for the sake of sincerityblahblah. 

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