artifacts (redux)

artifacts (redux)

recollection memory dream drawn from

the everyday motion of artifacts

“the everyday motion of artifacts”

as a boy and teenager

he was drawn to things he could collect

organize and save and treasure

object by object as each thing became his

this was not about possession

but a fortress against temporal human frailty

•

in the dream like the evening before watching a film

he cried spontaneously and deeply

the film:

a father turned to his daughter in the backseat of the car

and she said, “I love you, Daddy”

the dream:

he lay in bed reading when his daughter walked in

smiling, hugging him, and saying, “I love you”

maybe a film but not tears or a dream

he could hold on to—collect and preserve

•

he began listening to a CD she made for him

not because he liked the music or the group

but the artifact had her handwriting

across the thing itself from a moment

he had been in her mind heart and hand

like a coyote in silhouette howling its longing

the consumers (crimes against the market)

the consumers (crimes against the market)

“Caught in the act, sinfully Scrabbling. Quick, eat those words.”

The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood

linger and dally were just some of the words

that disappeared among the consumers

like collect, restore, recycle, and sustain

all punishable crimes against the market

instead they were monetizing and re-investing

and doing so at an ever-increasing rate

mindful never never to hold on to anything

because someone was always watching         

words are a meager thing at the bottom of a grave

words are a meager thing at the bottom of a grave

“Salander couldn’t breath….[S]he realized…that she was buried under ground.”

The Girl Who Played with Fire, Stieg Larsson

i am sorry that you are beautiful

that the curve of your jaw and neck

the angle of your ankle to foot

and your hands your hands

all all of you yes all

makes me ache to be right next to you

the words that come out of your mouth

and your mouth

the laughter that rises from your chest

and your chest

and the dozens of ways you have worn your hair

over the sixteen years i’ve known you walk on this planet

i am smitten enamored and pining in your trance

your electrifying faerie dust and pheromones 

i am sorry because this all sounds superficial

the hollowness of a man thinking with his hands

and the burden of my love like a shovel full of dirt

words are a meager thing at the bottom of a grave

but it is all i have

it is my complete resignation in a mine field

to the one thing that is me and true

except this isn’t quite true

at least not as true as this:

i wish my longing was what you wanted of me

my hands reaching for you

like a man buried alive trying to dig free

for the oxygen that pales beside you

tracing, holes, self-righteousness, & superpowers (crimes of passion)

tracing, holes, self-righteousness, & superpowers (crimes of passion)

i. tracing

it was a dream that nested in me like memory

you strip the bed of everything

except a new white sheet

you lay me down on my back

like a cadaver or patient

you prick the ends of your fingers

to trace me in your blood

but you cannot show me with an outline

that is only where i lie

because when you ask me to rise and leave

all that is left is not me

ii. holes

i lost you to the black hole of normal

that swallows everything except me

and i am trapped in the gravitational pull

of the wormhole that ties us always together

iii. self-righteousness

self-righteousness isn’t attractive

it doesn’t unzip your dress

falling to the floor

or buckle your knees

knowing it all is no aphrodisiac

it is cold dead certainty

rendering yesterday tomorrow

as if you do not matter

iv. superpowers

i cannot climb walls or fly

and my body doesn’t transform

behind mask, tights, and a cape

my superpowers are mundane

and draining as Kryptonite

but only for the ones i love

i have superpowers that destroy

with the exhausting burden of love

this stone of you were not enough

it is a bizarre thing to have the gift

of inverting a heart into diamond

shedding love like a snake skin

i leave bruises that never heal

and lie on the skin like ghosts

or tattoos removed by lasers

•

how far must we pull back to recognize this crater?

and how does failure look curled and bleeding

on the pavement before the outline can be drawn

and the yellow tape strung to signal DO NOT CROSS?

frail (drop of blood in a glass of red wine)

frail (drop of blood in a glass of red wine)

Let me come over, I can waste your time, I'm bored
Invite me to the war every night of the summer
And we'll play G.I. Blood, G.I. Blood

“Gospel,” Boxer, The National

i am frail and so are you

we have lived egg-shell lives us two

mostly separate but never apart

even before we met

and during our silences

when you shut the door between us

all whispers closets and tip-toeing

sock-footed over carpet

so no one would know

i am a drop of blood

in every glass of wine you drink

you are the slice of lime

in the beers i cherish like water

•

i drive alone some mornings

listening to songs that make me cry

writing these poems to you

about you and for you

my sheep among the laurels

that i cannot tend in my frailty

•

on one of our secret days

we walked naked

through your childhood home

and then stood at a counter

to look through a family album

side by side unknown to anyone

•

i am worth it and so are you

hand in hand and naked

in the sunlight where everyone can see

shouting and doors wide open

walking without fear or hesitation

to the us i will not let disappear

like a drop of blood in a glass of red wine

the world (frantic)

the world (frantic)

“No, Mum. You’re not stupid. But life is unfair.”

Lisbeth Salander, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Stieg Larsson

the world was exactly as they expected

exactly as they knew it to be

and mostly not as it could have been

or should have been

spring was pretty much spring

and summer was pretty much summer

as was winter and tumbling fall

dawn was always dawn

and day was always day

as was dusk and certainly night

and while children starved

and women bled, battered and bruised

some men pondered over $5000 suits

and a different shirt and tie each day

all in all everyone frantically did everything they could

and of course they did nothing at all

the world was exactly as they expected

exactly as they knew it to be

and mostly not as it could have been

or should have been