lakes

To walk slowly inside the mountain shadows and souls
With an empty cracked cup and a blunt knife in the hands,
Patiently cosplaying an impostor of cosmic proportions,
Bloodless but not entirely pure. Stone mirrors, as usual,
Hide themselves and everything else from a bulging eye,
Stone air hides the smells from a meddling nose,
The laughter of the lakes can’t reach a curious ear.
The fish is just about to decide how many dismemberments
The Shahrazad Gumshoe Agency could investigate in a century.

 

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21 thoughts on “lakes

  1. THE AUTHORSHIP OF THIS POEM
    is flip-flopping like a giant goldfish
    escaped from the bowl
    I searched for a footnote
    some hint at identity
    I wanted to see two words: REVOKED & REASSIGNED
    ****it took a powerful flashlight to illuminate this sequence of words
    ——————————————————
    ——————————————————
    inside the mountain shadows (what if it was just a large hill and not a mountain ?)
    walking slowly inside mountain shadows (which direction ?)
    walking slowly inside souls (are you tampering inside souls ?)
    an empty cracked cup (which is more important—empty or cracked ?)
    ———-possibly empty people having leaked from cracked skulls
    a blunt knife in the hands (no need to focus on the blunt penis)
    ———-possibly a weapon and not a piece of cutlery
    impostor—chauvinistic struttin’ macho poet
    the erection of youthfulness leaves the fingers bloodless
    the single bulging eye leaks myriad minute flavor differences
    a meddling nose should stay off the pavement
    the fish will be flushed tomorrow

    Like

    • are you sure a text must have an author?
      are you sure the author, say, of the revelation
      was really john, or jean, or johann, or yohanan, or evan, or ivan?
      each soul has many other souls inside it and you can’t name them all
      you can’t figure out exactly which one is responsible for this or that
      here is a picture of the greatest chauvinistic struttin’ macho poet on earth
      he knew that already before the great old ones were born

      Like

      • YOU’RE STANDING THERE NEXT TO THE PILLARS
        OF THE GREAT WESTERN LAW
        and I quote you,
        “each soul has many other souls inside it and you can’t name them all
        you can’t figure out exactly which one is responsible for this or that”
        restrictive constraints, baby bird
        a lifetime behind bars
        cellmates will agree that you look like George Washington
        they will take pleasure in introducing you
        to shackles and rectal shoehorning
        rhino horn poking—Tanzania style
        and on Sundays and holidays
        lickety-split swallow the stick

        Like

  2. FOR SHAME SUNSHINE,
    the proud son of a craving hungry cavern
    a baby being with sensory organs
    scorching days and icy nights
    trying to avoid the shooting gallery
    and then one day—easy money
    underhanded employment
    the taste of other people
    promises
    a true sense of yourself
    a small part in a great fraud

    Like

      • did you mention Villon because he was known for urinating
        on sightseers at the Niagara Falls ?

        pictorial poetry which was reflective of cavemen living
        in modern times ?

        brothers and sisters being in LOVE
        (+) place them in poverty
        (+) remove their children and sell them
        (+) sell the misfits to the popcorn vendors

        something you once said to me at an awards program:
        “the center is everywhere
        the circumference nowhere”

        Like

        • He lived in a universe where the niagara falls and the grand canyon didn’t exist
          Now he is living in wyoming
          Incessantly drawing your favorite part of the body on napkins
          In a roadside restaurant
          The waitress: more merlot?
          Villon: why don’t you call it the urine of raccoons?

          Like

          • I know that we had a chuckle
            about the popcorn vendors
            but dare I mention the hot-corn girls
            from Nebraska ?
            the right girl could sell a truckload
            I remember reading that any time
            Robert Frost saw an ear of corn
            he experienced a twinge of guilt
            need I say more ?
            as for “the urine of raccoons”
            that sounds like big-city talk
            ****the waitress explained that her husband’s
            body part was famous for its undulating skills

            Like

  3. million dollar questions:
    Have you switched over to Lilly Pulitzer colors ?
    did you notice the fingers on the waitress ?
    long and bony—-God help you if she was a man
    all that love jabbing
    call Smokey the Bear before bed
    question the concept of controlled stubble
    ask the waitress about the frog appliques on her apron
    you write postcards about revisiting childhood places
    but you’ve grown too large

    Like

  4. JUST FOR THE RECORD
    the nickname of the waitress was “stinky”
    she once asked me if I was traveling incognito
    I think she thought I was part of the cast of “Duck Dynasty”
    sometimes she would blink at me and make duck noises (?)
    small coconuts and a pink kumquat
    scraggly hair that made me focus elsewhere
    I told her that you owned several automobiles
    one that looked like a large chocolate cake

    Like

  5. I TOLD THAT WAITRESS A 1000 THINGS ABOUT YOU
    how you were pre-American
    a crazy martyr in the past
    had at least three plagues and died terrible deaths
    how you talked about your feet being made of clay
    how you were afraid of being washed away
    baby bird, I let my tongue run wild
    the more I talked the more the future was churned
    we sure had a lot of backfires
    gotta get our weeping done
    there’s no teary eyes where we are going

    Like

  6. I saw you washing your pants in the sink
    at the petro station
    as if you were lined up for the Holy Eucharist
    a lonely man—I could see the back of your head
    was it really that bad ?
    pushing numbers for boiled eggs and dry bread
    programs for machines—specimens of science
    dreams of telegraph poles
    roadside music for people wearing hats

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  7. I recall that you were fond of writing poetry
    about the wretched meals served on rocket ships
    Robert Frost never wrote about the loneliness of outer space
    where men lick the roof of their mouths as they masturbate

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      • UPON OBSERVATION, WE ARE BOTH CORRECT
        the ceiling in the mess hall is extremely low
        it is coated with a film of moisture
        probably flavored with smoky wood tones
        between bites of rice the men do lick the roof
        —————————
        self-possessed with masturbation
        they enjoy pressing on the sensitive roof of their mouths
        what the bottom line is—I don’t know
        (+) the tongue becomes a secondary penis
        (+) they recall a lover exploring their mouths
        —————————
        is it true that you once dated a girl
        who was on the label of a Murad cigar box ?

        Like

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