Late December: my father and I
are going to New York, to the circus.
He holds me
on his shoulders in the bitter wind:
scraps of white paper
blow over the railroad ties.

My father liked
to stand like this, to hold me
so he couldn't see me.
I remember
staring straight ahead
into the world my father saw;
I was learning
to absorb its emptiness,
the heavy snow
not falling, whirling around us.

go ahead and form that contract
seeking reform and change
go ahead and vote
you can justify it
until the end
so pretend

just take the time
to understand that you enable
the system to wage war in your name
authorizing every dime

on the ****** morning after
yet, another election day
please remember that
the government that
you got is the one
you voted for
regardless
of your
**'vote'

time to go gel
slicked back with cool smooth devils.
writing, waving
wads of sodden paper

and those pads
whip at us
like light
they strew paper
in the pit.

go on, steal a piece
and you can try to read it
and turn it into yours

Wrought to eject.
    Press red.
I unbutton my neck
    and fly—

    Oh Jesus, why did you follow!?
The flies that
    seductively sat on the
    blood-thirsty banks:
now everywhere;

Disturbed and angry—
now, they swarm us.
I cover my wounds,
my eyes, and
      walk.

I sit.
still; left leather top
and gate closed. far
from earth; ragged
look.

You never reached the door.
You stood outside, faced the sitting room.
Rain beating scars to heavy windows.
A warm fire panting. The couch patting the warm space
     you left; your lips
     open ajar, as my door,
and down your leg, a line,
a scrawl: love.

     To answer an angry growl,

I sang:
“please, two peas!
     you left;
don’t go — I’ve a hole in my heart,
     you know?”

     That exultation: it’s exhausting.

Aghast
An arthritic clicking of the fingers.
     I’ve snapped them like crazy.
     I’m clicking them now! Like the dog might come to me!?
I could change tempo.
     Life by my own beat for a bit.

But
     now, now
let’s try to find sanity.
     “I’m not just talking to myself. Please, forgive! Listen:
      We can’t run away from anger. We’ve got to make peace and be real.”
So look not forlorn, for us:
knee-deep in filth,
chatting and fighting.
Because I liked you.
And you liked me.
      A little bit.

Show us:
         swaying stories,
         softly storming.
She blew
         blossom, brushes
         forehead; farewell
fruit of flickering frames.

When we watch
and argue,
         (eyes smiling,
          this is me.)
Who wishes
for furtive false films?

“We will”
rectifies reeling reality.

PENCILS
telling where the wind comes from
  open a story.
  
  Pencils
telling where the wind goes
  end a story.
  
These eager pencils
come to a stop
.. only .. when the stars high over
come to a stop.
  
Out of cabalistic to-morrows
come cryptic babies calling life
a strong and a lovely thing.
I have seen neither these
nor the stars high over
come to a stop.
Neither these nor the sea horses
running with the clocks of the moon.
Nor even a shooting star
snatching a pencil of fire
writing a curve of gold and white.
Like you .. I counted the shooting stars of a winter
night and my head was dizzy with all
of them calling one by one:
  
        Look for us again.

I am not the captain of industry.
I am not the girl next door.

I do not dream of going to outer space.
I do not want to help the masses.

I can not rise above all my peers.
I can not charm the pants off of anyone.

I will not break the glass ceiling.
I will not play in the big leagues.

I refuse to do what I should.
I refuse to be whom I admire.

I have no hope for world peace.
I have no ***** of steel.

I get no true joy from hard work.
I get no chances of a lifetime.

I own no true name.
I own no family money.

I feel no rhythm in my feet.
I feel no calling to a higher purpose.

I won’t respect my elders.
I won’t play nice with the other kids.

I am not who I wished to be when I grew up,
But I keep trying because
I am/have/get/own/feel/love me.