(A very messy and syntaxless body of bananathoughts conceived on a metal voyage)
Dreams on flighty wings
allude me
come to me in fickle oasis
tickle my gut with
fear and
love
Writhing in plastic entrapment
30,000 feet above
life
and dreams on flighty wings
greet me
at the window
On this metal voyage
all are equal
and reduced to necessity
to piss
to sleep
and to be fed defrosted chicken.
/Rings/ suffocate on swollen fingers
they have never known such
exhaustion.
/Mucus/ in the nose dries
to desert crust
/Ankles/ once perhaps with some grace
are stripped of beauty
/Hair/ tries to breathe and gives up
pools about the cranium
dabbed in earthly oils, public grime
she resigns from the crown
and is gone.
No one is royal on the cheap flight
to Iceland
necessity is thick
in the thin air.
Grown and polished faces
grow long with want
skimpily veiled carnality reigns
on the metal voyage.
Men in suits wriggle
writhe
for pull position
sleep evades them as they curl
and cower—contour
to the plastic entrapment
Dreams on flighty wings
allude me
come to me in a fickle oasis
and tickle my gut with
fear and
love
——————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
these:
tease
and breeze about with looseness
Free of Time and Space
their wings are laced with sugar
they tell me of a place
I do not dare believe in
they whisper of a fate
that stirs my blood,
lights my face.
Dropping sugar into wanting mouths
sweetness lights the tongue up
and turns the stomach
for I have grown accustomed to
bitter herbs
and burning pepper
and I fear
it’s too late for fondness.
(In the metal voyager)
mirages pass over the eyes
holographic waters
in the desert,
divinity becomes the only Royal presence
in the gritty carpet
vacuumed everyday for
20, 30 years.
The contraption attempts salvation
scraping closer to the heavens
this is the calling for them
to come, come occupy the body
the vacant eyes
shadow hollows
in their cheeks
fire mouths
hoarse with want
and aching possibility.
Flighty dreams flicker something fierce
and stable
they flow like water
over dry
and thirsty crevasses
that never knew rain.
Is it possible that they come to
save us
or do they play
with gold
to see it sparkle?
They play refrains of something new
that drums into the bones
and calls for ancient
blood.
the air is open, the sky inhabited,
and the dirt does not reach us—
on the metal voyage.
My face is not the same these days,
this hour.
Green and leafy forest chokes my mind
and fills my ears
a path cut through the cicadas screaming—
your hand is rough and familiar
your body is my body
our air is mixed and tumbled together
as the atoms bumps and fight
and reassemble
Your blood runs through me
Your air runs through me
Our fused bones lay trapped in the back seat
restrained only by a seatbelt
screaming, laughing
Our creation.
The enchantresses, they tease,
they place a spoon of sugar
on my hot and salivating tongue
and a scene plays on in the theater
and
whether it is
an act
or future
we do not know.
what we do know?
new flavors are introduced
by way of hallucination
They know a lot,
too much (perhaps).
of past sorrows
they know when one is blind
I reek of homemade vaccines
stink of makeshift dreams
oil that’s used again and again
for frying
(it’s difficult to throw out
it coats the drain)
For want of softness to the brain:
I welcome flighty visions
to the eyes
I let them sit on my shoulder
(no extra cost)
For want of simple, ritual respect
For a mustard seed of
something better
to satisfy the call beneath
still girlish bones
the voice of the Ancients
the tremble of the Past
my cells are infants
my soul is not
she screams to me
no more
no more
These flighty dreams must
come down,
come down,
to earth (the dirt)
and I will grow fond of sweetness
so help me God
I will spoon feed it
to the ghosts
and bitterness
will be laid to
her
deathbed.