To Be Relished In Private

 

There’s no substitute for muskmelon at least not until we got stuck in the rain and discovered God in the straw how much does the taste of liberty weigh if you hear me moan it’s because I’m having a dream of cherries what can I give you besides a pleonasm in naked transparency aren’t eyebrows wonderful will we ever discover ourselves happy on a beet farm dear Mr. Fantasy play us a tune something to make us all happy I’ll light a candle & put it in the window I find reality has been turned upside down at the bottom of the pool

When is that damned Safeway going to open I will put my thoughts in a fever and see if I can produce an inkling of understanding I’m feeling something I don’t know what it is what I’m feeling which is often a cause of hair and to be relished in private the North American Pine Squid isn’t real nor did I make it up my sense of proportion is bad I once tried to cross a notebook with a barracuda thereby broadening my capacity for love

Marcel Proust was my roommate in college I lay awake pestering him with questions how does one accept the absurdity of life he said there’s a special cookie that fills the mind with splendor flavorful interactions pink umbrellas a subconscious recognition that we do not understand ourselves we must talk through it sweat through our T-shirts the mouth searches for words philosophical fat intentions connectivity oysters owls bogus excuses curtain rods silverware and drums I like you I trust you let’s shake hands and settle the deal over dinner thought is the enemy of flow the beginner’s mind art yields nothing but accidents beautiful things pantyhose lingerie the smells of Cairo in the 1980s sapphires ignition coils breasts and quantum equations Hilary Hahn playing J.S. Bach Concerto No. 1 in A minor the world goes to rags in the evening if you agree to walk my poodle I’ll give you an arena with good acoustics and fill it with a regatta

I won’t deny it there are pebbles in the mailbox echoes in a bee helicopters with great amenities things you wouldn’t expect like tiny sea polyps and varsity jalapenos the arteries of the rose filled with the blood of lovers which is why the chemical system of our cells often produce puzzling consonants crumbling paradigms basal cognition isn’t philosophical fluff which is why worms don’t have necks poetry supports nothing but teeth cyborgs jam at the local bar music never ends it continues over the horizon even our carpet has currents running in it it’s amazing how obstinate some people can be roaring about cybernetic toys the great cholesterol scam the taste of success which is oftentimes bitter there’s a pill under development that may reduce tinnitus others insist the wind lives in a cave by the sea I don’t know what to make of any of this

As for kidney stones the pain was so bad I was sweating bullets why do I keep bringing it up my memory keeps retrieving the sticks I throw my legs are levers and comrades evening mists caress the dying of the sun there’s a fire in the room a bright reflection the garden has a stranger standing in it a woman in black scribbling madly in a small book