The Poisoned Chalice
Pitch-black flashback
Immaculate hallucination.
As I wring the sweat from my memories
Into this laceration.
The only love I’ve ever had,
Subatomic panic attack,
I have no legs, I have no legs!
With Kool-Aid running down my cardigan sweater—
Rock-a-dile red,
I wear it better.
Gravity crushing my cigarette,
I didn’t know I was doing that,
When I look away—I forget—
Yet again.
With half of this vessel in reality,
The other half in dreams,
The dragon stratus confuses me
Through paisley particle beams….
It appears I’m the only astral plane crash survivor.
Alone together with everything,
Stained and color connected,
Internally housed and so explained
However unexpected.
I need to get this package out!
Wrapped in the obituary section—
Glowing and stitched with butterfly legs
I’m not calm
Or trained,
Only partially sane,
On a mission
To some grand conception.
The things that are birthed
From within the outside,
Couldn’t possibly be
Contained in my mind.
They just slide.
And slide
And slide away,
I suppose some god would have it that way.
Some man made of clouds
With a solid bone crown
Who made an awesome promise
To never come down.
Man oh man—
I’ll do the hand test again,
To see where I’m at
In this fallen space whether.
This radiant cellar of heaven—
Counting my blessings
From one to eleven.
Skipping.
My legs reappear,
They’re back, they’re here!
I can use them to dance for the great puppeteer.
Nobody knows
Or understands,
But these legs—they feel—
Like oscillating fans!
I’m off to have dinner with King and Queen of Spain.
Some casual acquaintance of foreign exchange.
This road is so long.
I don’t think it stops.
Looking is hard in the mystical fog
Through fractal patterns of translucent porn,
This wildly tiresome and arduous slog
Is evolving back to my usual war.
The war of logic.
I must go home.
I remember I said, never again.
But I lied, I went back
When the paranoia faded.
I was lucky it did.
(2013)
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