Thoughts After a Funeral

I drift east of the moon,
a vapor dispersing,
a dimension perpendicular to noon.

Call to me.
Tend me with great remorse.
I am wrapped in death's granite skin.

I have become
an over-the-counter medication
encapsulating formaldehyde in a time-release formula.

Call to me.
I will answer
with silence, in temporal immobility.

I am less
than a breeze,
a nuance of dark matter falling to a black hole of being,

building
to a critical mass...
Will I shriek into nova after half a billion years?

published in Inverse Origami the art of unfolding, 1998

Tattoo Me

Went to the parlor.
Studied steel needles under neon.
Shaved my head
and the burly guy began to make
tiny holes into which he injected
three and a half gallons of windshield washer fluid
so I could see what was already tattooed there.

Look! The internet directory
lawn clippings from Walt Whitman
the TV GUIDE
the golden rule
ma's one hundred thirteen
favorite rules of thumb
the law of the jungle
the Khama Sutra
the Windows help index!
(Boy have I got a headache.)

I expected roses
but here I am in a downpour
waving a torn baggie
which only moments ago
encircled a half-pint of blue fluid and a goldfish.

Suddenly my blond mopís matted, slippery
the world, a fish-eye-hubcap reflection.
And I am only beginning to breath/see/hear.

When I complained about the mess
the burly guy
pointed to a disclaimer on the wall
noting that birth may involve screaming
and that the midwife may NOT cut the curls of self-reflexive cord
which loop back for generations
through thickets of abandoned fishbowls.

This act you must own for yourself.
For this act, you own your self
For stealing fire you get to lay on the mountain
and offer up your liver daily at dawn

Each night in fecund darkness
you grow another.


pg 12 & 13 Inverse Origami, the art of unfolding 1998, Out-of-the-Mist Press

Waiting for experience

Under the canopy of slender lacy trees
sits Shahna, flecked with sun,
feet in hand, flexing
nimble innocent toes.
Her toes are pale and fresh from socks,
dustless and dainty,
without calluses.

She smiles idly,
waiting for experience to drop
ripe from the trees,
Newtonian and unexpectedly revelatory.

She, passive.
She, postulating.
She, perplexing under the trees.
truant to action,
tacit and unmoving.
She winds wisps of hair on spindly fingers,
smiles and sighs,
singing eyesum songs
to no one in particular.


from Inverse Origami, 1998 Page 12.

Re-Generations (The Cat's Wrap)

Kitten, stiff-legged fur frumped up, eyes a-glare
lands on old-man cat who was asleep:

"Hey old papa won't you come and play?
We could chase our tails all day,
We could slide on the rug
and tumble
and jump,
I could bite you on the nose,
I could bite you on the rump,
I could shock myself chewin' on 'lectric cord...

Old-man cat raises his head
slowly opens one green eye,
spits and hisses in reply:

"Go away. Don't you bother me .
Stop hoppiní ëround, all crazy
like some hot-foot flea.
I want to eat and sleep.
That's MY wish.
Calm down little fool,
and STAY OUT OF MY DISH.
I want to lay in the lady's lap and purr all day.
Silly little fur-ball won't you go away?"

Now, it's old-man cat who's gone
permanently sleeping under the lawn,
become one with an azalea.
The kitten has grown lap-lazy with years.
has hairballs now and one ripped ear,
and outside, mewling on the front porch steps
is another kitten:

"Hey old mama, won't you come and play?"

=============
10/21/91 written at Zum Zum's Cafe
North Conway, New Hampshire, 1995 rewrite
published in Inverse Origami, the art of unfolding, 1998

Alien

This world is humming and busy

but i am alone,

apart,

vapor,

a trick of light.

People chat easily on balmy earth

while I sit condensating,

turning to ice crystals

out here on Neptune.

I try to speak, to make contact

but my

protective

helmet

takes up

too much

space, calls

attention

to itself

with its

enormous

nest of

convoluted

filtration

hoses. The

compressor

roars in

my ears.

- October 1996

The picture, a custom digital drawing by the poet appeared with the poem in the book..both appear on page 16 of Inverse Origami...

First-aid instructions for video addiction

SYMPTOMS:
Victims often appear passive as cows,
butt to couch, knee to elbow, palm to chin
nodding in pale cathode light,
humming jingles in unguarded moments

In the most severe cases,
the remote is clutched and waved about
While channels spin and ad men shout
Lingual clues to addiction include agitated exclamations:
---- "You're blocking the screen."
---- "Give me the damn remote."
---- "Where the hell is the TV Guide?"
---- and "OH MY GOD THE CABLE IS OUT!"

REMEDY:
Work quickly: Crush the remote.
Yank the plug. Ax the cable.
Slap the victim vigorously
with butterfly wings or dandelion puffs
to stimulate the circulation.
Get the victim walking
preferably along rows of rusty,
saw-toothed words in the local library
until the high wears off
Occasionally allow small swallows
of strong coffee or garlic pizza.
If the victim becomes agitated,
run down the white porch steps
out into the meadow
and earnestly roll in the grass
until laughter is induced and the crisis passes.

WARNING:
The victim will be in denial. Expect a relapse.


- Mar the Mad Walker, 1995

Inverse Origami - the title poem

Instructions for a Timed, Juried Performance:
(hear the author read this poem)

Be sure to
to unfold yourself
as the music begins
or the universe

will unfold another like you
less, perhaps, or more
or in another key
but similar enough.

Chaos conjures you
out of the void
can conjure an army
of you if need be

like you, less, or more
but not you not quite you
not you in all your intricate detail.
You've come this far - unfold.

Expedite.
Don't make them call you twice:
flatten out the soul
until geometry recedes

and winds roar
through you the code
written there
time's sweeping hand.

Unfold before the shredder,
before the trashman turns you on end
before the recycle plant
dissolves you to pulp

again and again.
=====================
c 1998