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November 15, 2001
It's mild mid December approaching
Christmas I walk my apartment around
bare ass windows open because I think I like it
like fresh air year round its so mild
and the door wide open too
I inhaled as you would any would
sieving air down dripping pink corridors
selecting interested spores for private
tours of my muddy blood.
Weather changes so fast soaking clouds
scrape upper branches windows crash down
with surprise annoyed haste then pissed off
something has started inside me
between optic nerve and diaphragm
a baby earthquake maturing rapidly
violent shakes spreading like new love
circling chest high like a dog finding his spot
wet coughs skim over never scrap up enough
phlegm first time over and over the same
ground like raking pebbles with fingers until
from reddened soil enough is harvested
to spit.
Flannel sheets sweet as crooked kisses
a fever flag ruse to lure sparkling Jesus
to my side in borrowed Saint Michael's full
regalia jeweled cloak spotted with the fragrant
sweat of just saved souls slipping under the bar
stiff sharp bedazzling scratchy brillo beard
carving scraping lines into my flabby flesh
a vaccination flu shot against life because
only God could be so cruel.