Saturday, March 11, 2006

Weirdness

BEGINNING WITH A LINE FROM A CARTOON

O Karen, my computer wife,

you were saying

something about binary stars

clacking like false

teeth in the night.

Or was it lasagna

you offered me.

I was thinking of salt, again,

and broken promises

and dried leaves left

to winter

in the drain of our shallow pool.

I think your eyes

were my idea,

where to put them,

what color.

I wanted to see you always in this darkness.

No one ever said

how soon bones begin

to seep through the skin

or that sadness

is a substitute for the sacrament of the x-ray.

We should get

a dog, name him

something

truly unspeakable.

And start attending church

as though we

belonged, our mouths stuffed

with song.

5 comments:

Tim E. said...

That shit is dope.

Paul said...

Word! Word. Word?

Anonymous said...

O Paul Revere,
to you I have always
been a redcoat.
A history worth repeating.
Call me baby,
call me Karen,
call me once only,
and then expect Italian.
You were thinking
of a mountain.
You were thinking
of a promise broken
by silence,
and you thought, once,
of eyes.
But in spring,
you think only
of irises,
which bloom
in every
color imaginable.
I heard your cry
before
the first shot
rang out.
Perhaps I deserve
lanterns, drums, a song.
I have been Britain.
I never touched you
except with the Stamp Act.
I never loomed
except from across
the dark Atlantic.
I never figured you
for sad.
Let us get a dog.
Let us name him
Boston.
In church,
you must think
your tea
overboard,
if you think of me
at all.

nate said...

Is this Spongebob? I love Spongebob. Great poem, too, Paul.

Paul said...

It is Spongebob!