--- D A V I D K O P P I S C H
Your daily tactics to deter the molestations of the garish powers, fending off the sharp unimaginable noise of task, trying to invoke the way you sucked white peaches in the French sunlight lured black coffee into deep happy chambers, the way your lips repel the huge shallow configurations and the way your tongue like a gentle grenade lobbed into the post-industrial compound and the taste of light on your stones which roll over the giant symbols that titillate or expropriate. I have seen enough of your subliminal outreach your counterfeit allusions your slapstick promises. And if this signifies anything it's pouring out and filling up a renunciation and a forest fire, a flood, a drought, a judgment, a newborn it is to say that all you do continues to leak it is to say your system of production not unlike insects eliminated in the breeze or under soft heavy footsteps of the large, mute animals. And how long will you endure the nervous cold cuts hermetically sealed on the kitchen counter? And how long in the middle of the slippery street mistaking roadkill for manna, looking for doors to the key of my ridiculous longing my comic book politics my alien practices at the bathroom sink or loping lonely contradiction waiting for the bus with embarrassed coalition of disparate body parts. Speaking of which: the terrifying morning with its giant flaming boulder with its corrugated mantra of my surprising thirst with the flowering crimson pain of majority hunger sliding gently into your disruption slipping out of the demeaning sheathe. I sensed you were chiding the leaves for half-hearted salutes, I sensed the fabulous cats whose tails climb into the nostrils of God uttered strange liquid verses like bread to your deep obligatory stomach. I sensed the round dark conflict the perpetual sandwiches the innuendo of your mouth all within the brutality of dawn. And you began to question the smiling fist of business pushing the necessary motor oil or a wide variety of instant soups to meet your every need. And you seek to shatter the balloons of men in their dark suits and you feel like a replica of organs dying to touch the shiny lining of a momentary wound. And remember, the dappled dancing leaves prick the professionalized heart and pray to the fuzzy morning with its miraculous silhouettes. And remember, the orgiastic squawk of the blackbirds pierce the climate control and electric tongues of crickets vibrate with disapproval. Picture how they capture the audience with delicious hooks in their mouths: remind me that your laugh track is my sleepwalk my domestication is your dividend and my sweat gland your salary, all dripping with the intravenous of authority, like spectators suckle market-tested stimulus as overweight alumni climb into ridiculous vehicles, all spawned by childhoods of the required communion those etherized sentences these sterile beverages that suburban spleen and our lifeless arrangements. When I was an infant my six sisters fought to hold me nonetheless take your average American nightmare boiling secrets, shuddering fantasies or on the twilight sidewalk watching the endless march of cars onto the slaughter of the highway but your chest was warmer that I expected or deserved and at the not-for-profit gathering I sat at your feet and listened to your hair and this morning I float in the ocean of our bed, merely watching your face in the gauze of the sandy light.
© crossconnect, inc 1995-2002
published in association with the |
university of pennsylvania's kelly writers house |