Friday, March 27, 2009

march 27th, 2009



bathtub blues
 

The poem opens with a nightmare, an astonishing recreation of nothingness. This is only an exercise in word play, an orgy of lavish syllables and dense sentences. I wish I had a bathtub.  

I wish I had a tub I could fill to the brim with bubbles. I miss disrobing and cautiously stepping into a bath of lava water. Right big toe was always the courageous penguin, leading an army of tuxedos into an infested warzone.  

The crippling dusk exfoliated the cuckoo’s nest, but no one seem to notice, or better yet, care. There were bums selling camcorders for a nickel down the street but people had places to be, sights to see, greasy food to consume. The city was buzzing with activity. The air was polluted with wonder. The beast hid beneath the shadows in defeated isolation.  

Shots of minimalism render me helpless as the aardvark gnaws at my at my toe nails. He pauses for a moment and cocks his head towards the clouds. Continue I say. He does. His obedience is admirable. His choice of attire, on the other hand, is an embarrassment. I lay back and close my eyes. The sun beats down on my chest, sizzling the tip of each piece of hair. I put my shades back and try to think over the sound of clipping. I am starting to suspect Hamlet is getting restless. He is getting smarter every day.

I fear the vastness of the ocean, the incredible magnitude of everything it supports, the creatures we know so little about and the ones we will never even discover. The concept of limited life is bizarre beyond comprehension. The unknown too often separates people fighting for the same thing.


3 comments:

  1. the vastness of the ocean..

    ReplyDelete
  2. ...The city was buzzing with activity. The air was polluted with wonder. The beast hid beneath the shadows in defeated isolation..
    ..nice!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. very good reads..love that they are short and packed to the brim

    ReplyDelete