Animals
the way
we don’t speak
and anyway
my sense of god and good morning are the same
/good morning I am across the street at the café/
notes on poem: page five:
CLEAN & JERK
CLEAN & JERK
Lift the bar
A bird can’t do that
and
he will sing not say
CLEAN & JERK
CLEAN & JERK
They
are taking apart the personalities (of all the people) I see every day (on the street)
and
I know that this is not what happens or should happen anywhere (in the world)
If I were making music now, not this poem, I’d say:
We are in service for the speaking
world of
“Clean-limbed”
and
“Human”
I won’t confess anything
but
the radiance I feel when saying
“the
colony is collapsing”
I feel guilty for it,
sure
/not to tell is better /
give me absolute give me still
make the applause sound like a flock of wings of many of the same animal
moving up in the air, a sound I cannot make
the chair is waiting
