Page 74 - Contrast2012

The scarecrow's onion skin fracturing, the outer shell peeling making
my eyes water,

I water the Earth and the ground and the plants with my tears made
entirely of color and light,

A past escaped, long forgotten,
A rusted mattress, tingeing, can crunch, claustrophobia, my closed car,

what happened?
How do I bury anger in the graveyard?
A loudmouth foghorn howls from the belly of the bay.
I think of all the trash picked up
Wednesday by the garbage men
Hyper-compressed, a compact cube accumulating into an undulated,

spinning ball,
The contents Were dumped into a slagheap landfill,
I was there, at the heart of a sparkplug's wire within a steel cable,
Fueling the engine of the subway,
Thinking of towns where a ghost walked down the street in broad

daylight and nobody noticed.
I was dangling from the telephone spike T,
Like the scarecrow on the pole begging for lobotomy while horses eat

his head full of hay,
And I was the operator talking through a loudmouth foghorn on an

electric grapevine,
Birds landing on high tension wires, adding weight like a pressure

cooker,
The wires snap, the sparks flow, and a shadowy hand swarms the field

devouring the vegetables in the field,
Under the breath of a transformer's hum,
I'm an engine, guiding the now passing subway train,
A continuum of thoughts and revelations,
I was peering from the skull's window, through a hole in the lens,
Lit by a birthday candle in the sky and I watched the sun die a million

light years away,
It came in the form of wires, neurons, a spinal chord supported by a

column of a larger body, larger than the idea which inhabited
it,
And I'm motion sick, my butterfly stomach's spitting, wrenching, twist
ing,
Borborygmi, grumble sweet intestines as its peristaltic convulsions

72 I contrast