ducks in trees

so you see this friend of mine
struggle with this misidentifiers
the ones which paste themselves
into the bedroom then cut
out a piece of her mind.

i'll begin with me.
flattery on a large scale.

sunbeams cut the verticle blinds
morning stripes on the floor.

last nite daddy said to me
i had a clone on tv. indulgent
indolent permissive this is why
he gets to say i told you so
and i don't mind really i mean
i was almost as fucked up
as my kids when i left home he
just didn't know it. the one difference
is that i earned my keep in different ways
not artist ways. thinking of rilke.
the ultimate seducer. thing about him
is he must have believed in it,
the image repetoire he concieved
and foisted on the world. ah
those were the days when men
were their masks....


the ducks expect bread and crackers
now. one will take it directly
from your hand, quillish bill
snaps a finger, stabs a palm.

their rounds include
a mini flight to this railing
peering into the sliding
window eye cocked questioning
where is my god?
then on to the next sucker.

daily ritual, saved, caved
carved in bas relief across
an oak's rolling river
nuance of bark and bite.

typos:
some serindiptously arise
most are poor training


some serin gas the pome...



there is a thought
eluding me . the one i go after
digging my sandy soil
for a stone. not that stone.
a stone. peck peck peck.











i would be an artist
that made you feel comfortable
with your own trappings.
an interior designer
for the soul''less. what have you
collected? let me jenga them
in a corner, let them look
almost fallen.





i take my daily meds.
if i don't i can't survive.
the person i become when
i don't take them
is a yuppie. i begin to buy
into their scruffy push presents
their butterfly gardens
their preservation of accepted beauty.
the city is the new nature.
so zen tells us.


maya loves the pre/echo
of the red eye landings. the way
light stabs the trees
makes them bleed in the dark
when they should be sleeping.
the corners of the pool
inka essenhightish. i should link
that but doesn't everyone
by now
know google? i am a lazy
pioneer or is that i
want you to read all of this
before you leave me?

imagine a rollover that would fade you
into the link, especially
if it were an image
so that you could go directly from
text, to image, then back
with no nasty side effects.
a slight mouse movement across the differently
colored letters , no time travel
trepanning blades just image flash
and gone. oh, they've done it
within embedded flash but i'm
saying a direct link to the webpage
then out again. a collage of mindmories.

then we all copyleft it. left brain
right brain. gauche brain droit brain.












i keep thinking one day
this mass psychosis
we call reality will wake up.
i can't believe the citizens
are happy. the most i can say
is we're persueing it. you know
how pursuit makes the thing flee.












i have a wall of possessions
from my past. well, mostly
grandma's things.she has so much-
pictures
of the long dead cover my walls.
my sisters and i as children
my own children. mom pregnant
little babes getting bathed
in various forms of fonts, baptismal
now you can find out what fun
water
has in store for you. nothing
not much from my 23 yr relation
ship with the sire of my children.
in fact. only the pictures
and the linen wedding dress, appropriate
for high tea, the most expensive piece
of cloth i ever acquired. daddy
bought it for me. it was the only thing
i asked him to purchase for
the weedy wedding.


other clothes from that era survive
also a guaze shirt with yellow
embroidery which my dead sister and i pooled
our money for when we were baby
sitters. we fought over that weekly
whose turn it was
who put in the most money
who didn't wash it last
i should have burnt it at her funeral
but she wasn't there. i keep cloth.
scraps of dna embedded despite
the cold water to remove stains
bleaches and non coformity....


ah my time has expired.
it's ten. i have
a self imposed schedule to keep
if i want to fly to my lover's arm
and i do, despite the bleeding.