Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Poem: Dungeon Warrior, Come Home

For Jay E.

In the coffee house
I conceal my shame behind greenery
like a recent exile from Eden
I hear the local kids playing magic cards
the place is crackling with youth
and numb electronica
and I remember one of your few refusals
you wouldn't go with me to the Celtic Festival
because it was likely to be haunted
by kids in cloaks playing Magic cards
I said it's July
they will have kilts not cloaks
and no one will be playing magic cards
but you would have none of it
so we hung out in front of the computer
in your Dad's basement
and I called your Dad's house
But you're not there now
you're out Occupying something somewhere
no longer under stucco stalactites
You burst out of the bum leg and the cobweb dungeon
you're out there sleeping rough in protest
kicked out of Worcester in solidarity- now Providence
what's next?
Jacksonville?
the tropics is hardly austere enough for a martyr
what's left? Occupy Disney
Mickie and Minne, agents of the evil empire, are in conspiracy
concealing vaults where Walts frozen corpse
dreams its Nazi cartoons?
Or are you picking off chiggers under Spanish moss
sprawled in some swamp
like a batshit folk hero in a Carl Hiassen novel
Where are you?
The internet is not enough
I need you here
solid Panda presence
I need to drink molten ice cream cocoa
down in the basement
surrounded by by 300 year old trees
a tame german shepherd
and the red liquid sky where cell phones don't work
Where are you?
I need the radio silence of another sad heart
under my swollen head
I need to be cradled by hands that still know how to
pick broken things off the ground
I am that thing with feathers after it smashes
against what is
Come back here and occupy my couch
foment revolution among the seagulls
I'm no longer the hurtling Phoenix
just your wounded bird
it hurts too much to burn

3/7/2012

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