MADE FOR YOU AND ME 1: hive Being (Stanzas 2016—part 14)
Let's workshop this stanza sequence, which includes coffee-pot sponge baths, comas, the blind feeling faces, incestual flirtation, contradictions in the case against homosexuality, sea kelp, zoophilia
worry beads daycare death sea-kelp grace poor but spoiled the landlord’s knock rashes from corpulence recanting without regretting bequeathing fleas to the next tenant individuals are folds of a great ribbon those with “kill myself” on their to-do list school rumors of that kid who swung over the bar the spread of the door-screen tear as the children grow looking down to find that you are wearing mismatched shoes insisting that his blind lover wash her hands before feeling his face those who simply love big dick versus those who really do love horses allowing something not even you to become an integral part of your identity a bong brings them together after more than a decade silent since all those repressed “bad touches,” and yet Daddy’s high compliments grow tinged with flirtation that forward lean of haulers, a strap across the chest of each, as they draw the barge into shallows fine with not being the first, or likely the last, brought up here at sunset for a kiss(ing fuck) on lover’s perch discomposed by those misfortunes from which we cannot rescue loved ones not for the reason that we tell ourselves it seems our duty to savor each bite as we nod with our toast and caviar at black-and-whites of world poverty too hooked on the junk food of special dispensations for blacks to stop finding—well, concocting—proof of the mega-industry lie of white supremacy’s reign sometimes the subject is not to be centered in the viewfinder condemning gay sex on grounds that it cannot result in babies even as you bang a wombless wife when rock-bottom is death there bright and early, before the liquor-store clerk arrives to lift the storefront riot door what do we hope to detect when we show our kids tragedy footage—when we stress the horror, watching them watch the screen? family businesses destroyed from the addition of their land to the list of superfund sites the thought It’s just a hole, take care lest it reveal everything to be just a—blank a teenager’s “devil music” tuning out that drunk devil all-too-real downstairs what is good mental health in your community? negative signs of illnesses and injury that mothers look for (fever, blood) console her, holding the coma hand our new power to record can keep nostalgia well-fed and ourselves debilitated, perhaps even watching our younger selves watching taking it out on the funeral director those who grope for the brass ring in hope that all will then be okay, but are let down after reaching it because death is what they were after all along if either is worthy of being wiped out, it is not the conman but the smug one who really thinks that he is a sorcerer people still lose themselves in play, knowing there to be no chance to make the NBA mugs held between sweater sleeves at the fire lead convulsions yard-sale prescription glasses because the dread of death is lingering— that is how we still manage daily tasks with the dread of death lingering warm baths before school from a dish sponge dipped in coffee-pot creek water condemning gay sex on grounds that Leviticus unequivocally forbids it even as you catch pigskin footballs sometimes the subject is not to be centered in the viewfinder condemning gay sex on grounds that most animals do not do it even as you use an electric toothbrush
This is a portion of an ongoing mosaic poem called Made for You and Me. This portion is from the first installment: hive Being (Stanzas 2016-2020). More specifically, it is from the 2016 portion of that five-part work.
Photo: iconicphotos.wordpress.com/2009/05/22/helen-keller-sees-the-president/