Treasure

                     Hold on to your treasure, tightly.

Secure it and put it on trial, litigate for and against your treasure,

                    Bind it’s legs and arms,

It will fight like a champion, but you’ll secure it.

And you can try and carry it back to your colony,

back to the church service and everyone is waiting for a baptism and everyone is dressed in pinks and greens and yellows.

Roll the stone away, you will need to wait your turn.

Roll the stone away and be careful not to get any dirt on your pants.

Don’t ask me or any of the watching animals with flashlight eyes to help.

Our faces will tell you all you need to know;

Our hands are tied and we are busy learning about what makes up a waterfall.

There are instruction manuals for that kind of thing,

you should know, you wrote  most of them.

                     The clock is ticking slower now, it must be running out of batteries,

Don’t worry I left some in the nightstand I think,

they may or may not be dead,,,,,

you may or may not be dead,,,,

Leave them in the nightstand,

trap the lighting and the thunder in there too, if you can.

                                  The clock is  practically saying nothing now,

Next to boisterous  masks and other important pictures  that never got their place in the sun,

although they had some pretty great speaking parts,

I loved that one where everyone was over weekend drinking wine and laughing

 and laughing

 and laughing.

Your treasure is what is important here,

Your soft treasure feels like a heart, and it’s beating rapidly

Sink your teeth into it, like a vampire,

(like a parasite)

and leave it behind,

(unlike a parasite)

                        but after you do you must get out of sight,

hideaway for the night,

hideaway from the night.

Morning will break and you’ll be better for it.

Stretch your arms out across the universe and remember your treasure,

remember where you left it to die.

                        It will still be there, like the rest of  them,

the rest of everything, the treasures and the tombstones and the autographs, and the car wash tokens, the laundry all over the floor.

It is especially hard to differentiate the quarters from all the car wash tokens.

They all end up in the same place anyways,

plastered in newspapers and written in the sky and under vending machines,

                             take it with you over the hills,

in broad daylight let them see you carrying your treasure with long legs like springs and the sun breaking on your back,

they will know you are the champion.

They will see you sidestepping landmines and broken lightbulbs to get to the coast,

to get to the edge and peek over, throw a stone down there and see if you hear it drop.

You have made it to the high dive,

and you wont even hesitate,

even with everyone watching,

                    and  you’ll break into a swim,

leaving the cities behind,

leaving the fanfare behind,

leaving a trail of blood behind.

It is here you’ll become young again, spraying water from your mouth like a dolphin,

spray it into the face of your treasure and it will open its eyes,

if only slightly and know that it is safe.

Talk to your treasure as you float on your back,

talk to your treasure as you begin to sink,

                                                           you  are sinking because of your treasure,

the label didn’t say anything about  that though,

and there were plenty of spelling errors, too.

But you knew how heavy that treasure was,

your back is sore from it, and the water in which you sink  lets you forget that,

as you descend,  slowly like a jellyfish,

                                        slower then your used to,

You are leaving your spine and your halo and your wings behind,

                             your luggage too,

and the airbags never  even deployed.

Your treasure is already out of sight, probably resting  somewhere at the bottom,

waiting for you, with it’s elbows on the table,

waiting for you to blow out the candles,

                                         waiting for a head on collision.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joy

I am no longer seventy percent water,

                               The oceans no longer run through me,

I am no longer a chess piece lost in the sand,

                    and I am perfect in the sun,

                                                                   in the sun I am perfect

and barefoot and can feel all my bones, too.

I can feel the wind and you should, too.

I can hear that clicking sound,

It could be an airplane, or fingers clicking tirelessly on a keyboard,

I know where words come from and I watch them walk into caves with their heads down,

I don’t know what that sound is, and I wont pretend to either.

I’ll hear it and catch it and I will watch it intently in the confines of a jar,

                                       Let it grow or die before my eyes,

before I lose interest in something as trivial as a phonebooth with no phone attached.

                       This obsession with ghosts wont get you very far,

stand idle and grow with the weeds!

 Be apart of the concrete, or the quicksand or the mountain.

Your surrounded by a fortress built by someone else, for someone else,

                             someone who was here before you were here.

Stand in the middle of all of it,

and hear the plates crash on the kitchen floor, someone will have to sweep it up,

but it wont be you,

it wont be you.

Standing in the middle of eternity with your arms out,

under a lush canopy of stars and gravity and other space junk.

Petting sleeping dogs, and watching fountains erupt like volcanoes.

You can try to hide upstairs,  but those heights aren’t  yours, either.

 And those heavens aren’t yours either,

                                                         What’s in the cupboard, isn’t your either.

You’ll lose your breath, but you’ll get it back.

I’ll give it back to you.

                        your heirlooms too, but for now they are locked away..

Here is some water so you can be fluid again,

but only so I can see my  own reflection in you.

You are my mirror, and  now I can see everything that goes on behind me.

                This is for the houses built next to the highways,

It is for you too, I didn’t forget.

and for  the sleeping dragons also,

and  for the fountains that erupt like volcanoes.

May  you  all get some sleep  among the passing cars and circling buzzards,

may you all find a way to climb up  and over those walls,,,,,

 

 

 

 

 

Someone tell me

Someone tell me I’m wrong,

someone tell me I’ve blossomed.

Burn me at the stake, and my effigy too.

Burn me at the stake, and leave the ashes to simmer,

There is no need for water, I will burn out all on my own,

There is no need for water, I will cross the desert on my own.

I will continue to expand and retract, like a dying star,

like a rubber band pulled between fingers,

cats in the cradle and I can finally

sleep,

until the rubber band breaks and  whips your fingers.

Red with fury now,

red with fight in them.

Mad enough to bang your fists,

mad enough to blow right through that red light,

into oncoming traffic,

into someone else’s eyes.

Clinch your fists, grit your teeth and tell anyone who will listen how mad you are,

howl at the moon and then some,

tell the moon how tired you are and how you can no longer look at the documents flayed out on your desk;

The moon will understand, I will understand.

Give up on those reports and

wipe away your milk moustache, it looks  really ridiculous.

Dig your feet out of the beach sand, the ocean wont wash you away that easily,

although it may try.

 You look ridiculous.,

I look ridiculous,

I have escaped the boxing ring before, and I can do it again, there is other beatings I would rather take.

I stand where the horses once stood,

I can feel their mane between my fingers,

I can hear their hooves and it sounds like a locomotive,

I wish I could be where the horses are now,

wherever the horses may be…

There aren’t many more places left to stand, even though the sign says standing room only,

many people are sitting,

many people have begun to build their nests.

They hide their luggage so well, I cant see it and neither can anyone else.

This room is full of nesting birds and apex predators,

And I didn’t bring a camera with me,

I only brought what I could carry, and I still spilled some on the way in.

I am sleeping like a camera over in the corner now,

shut down, but still recording.

My red light is blinking, and no one is really sure how to charge me, or where an outlet even is.

Dreaming about whatever it is cameras dream about,

but still rrrrrrrrrrrecording, still ddddddddddddreaming…

That is me, the camera,

I am on delay.

That is me, the audience.

I am on display.

 

 

 

A place to hide the keys

Like  idle columns,

Like times new roman,

They are there and that is where they will stay,

two pillars,

two potted plants,

 at the front door, on either side,

A light from above, looking right through them,

Looking down on them like an older brother,

flickering now,

flickering always,

Because  immediate oxygen is required to cross this threshold,

And they will provide that,

A breath of fresh air,

and a place to hide the keys

You’ll have to watch your step, too.

Lay down your pack and your alchemy,  and all your well-laid plans.

And wipe your paws

wipe your feet-

Lay your words down, too.

I don’t know how to get through this cave,

your chapped lips are not saying what you think they are saying;

                                        But I can hear you in the dark.

You came from the river, that’s why your feet are covered in mud,

You came from the fields, that’s why your feet are covered in dust,

But I can still hear you in the dark.

You went and got when the getting was good, and I missed out.

and still your feet are dirtier then mine.

Still your eyesight is worse then mine.

But you got all the good sales,

I cant believe I missed all the good sales,,,,,,,

Repetition isn’t always what it seems, and even when you think your cologne doesn’t smell anymore, you end up  giving yourself away.

I passed you at the market, you must have seen me,

You must have smelled me,

You must have heard me dragging my feet.

I smelled me,

I felt my feet dragging,

Vicious hands tugging at my shoelaces and my legs, trying to pull me down and make me burn with them,

I felt as though I was walking through cement, the same cement where you left your footprint, and I wanted to leave one, too.

But you were too busy handling fruit, shiny fruit as bright as gemstones,

Now you are here at the my doorstep, and   where are the gemstones?

Where is the fruit?

You came with brochures and wide open eyes, ready to absorb;

ready to burn me with x-ray vision;

Ready to blow the lid off of the whole thing-

Taking with it, with you, the entire laboratory,  all the important  papers, all the black holes;

The entire plane is depending on you and you  would still  put a blindfold over the pilot’s eyes;

It wont work, I bring the radioactivity.

I will hold onto the wings,

I will circle the drain, and I will grab you by your ankles, and I will take you down there with me,

So we can swim together,

So we will always be swimming together,

and they will talk about us during meetings,

Every meeting and during lunch too.

and painters will paint us,

Remember when we float under the bridge, remember all the rock formations.

be cryptic,

be tentative,

We will stumble upon the fruit eventually, while we swim,

while we float,

Don’t worry, we will stumble upon the gemstones, too,

while we float.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just what we need, more billboards

Remember                          the carcasses,

and the actresses ,

Who will read vague                                 scripts,

and win vague awards,

That sting like hornets;

That roar like lions;

It will still look good under the lights,

Even with a few bruises and bite-marks…

                   That award will win awards of it’s own,

and so on…

Spinning like a wheel, falling like leaves,

Dropping like flies;

Roaring like lions;

The same as pouring milk over a bland cereal each morning,

I left a message on the answering machine.

              This is not a bayou,

NOT a bayou…

(clears throat)

There is life here,

There is life in that cereal bowl and there is electricity in your fingers!

You are not simply veins and skin and arms and water, you have wings and your feet never touch the ground!

The circuses and the caravans that popped up overnight and then were gone the very next day,

They could have sold you something,

They could have stayed around a while longer…

The coral reefs, they are certainly stunning but you have to come up for air sometime…

Lest you forget ancient Babylon and the walls of Jericho,

 and often you drive at times when you should see the most   UFO’s in the sky, but you never do,

I never do, either.

I would ask that you remember all the intersections, and all the flashing lights, too.

So that we can find our way back at some point,

Don’t worry, I know you didn’t hear me.

                                 You will forget the intersections and the flashing lights,

Most of what you should be able to see is obscured by trees and smudges on your windshield, anyways.

Most of what you should be able to hear is obscured by the roaring of lions…

All I see is more billboards,

Just what we need, more billboards…

You will never remember exactly what you wrote in wet cement,

Make no mention of the witches that watch you from faraway forests and squinted eyes…

You’ll remember what the first word started with but you’ll forget once you get to the top,

Skyscrapers can have that effect on people.

Once you catch your breath, watch the sun fall,

And slowly fall with it,

Your hanging upside down, so this might not be exactly what it sounds like.

and you’ll live with those same 89  ghosts for awhile,

until one night when slip out though an open window

and they will be gone,

and cool air from the outside will invite itself inside, and you’ll forget about the ghosts that left you with nothing,

only cold air and a dishwasher full of dirty dishes.

They will explode like transformers in a hurricane,

Like 89 different rockets, descending on their targets,

Like 89 different reasons for calling it quits,

They have moved on to ring other doorbells and haunt other libraries,

But you wont miss them because you cant even see them,

You never did, they were dead in your house, and you always knew that.

They were devoured by the lions a long time ago, you just chose to ignore the remains.

Now they are only  stories…

Myths just  like vampires, sweetie… like werewolves.

 

 

Helicopters as a distraction

                                                    Falling asleep in shopping malls,

The squeaky-clean floors;

The squeaky-clean people;

all chirping like birds.

Talking over the janitors and the few leaves that have blown inside,

                            Taking space away from the  impartial;

                                  Taking space away from the eternal;

Talking points you missed more than once when you decided to sleep so well…

You’re feet will still be propped up,

And

You wont be getting any massage

While you wait for the bridge to be built,

Buy this tiny remote control  helicopter,

Your remote control self could use a distraction,

                                  While they finish up the bridge…

Fly it all the way up to the ceiling,

Let it believe it can escape and break through the magnificent glass…

Instead it will come  crashing down ,

Like a broken relationship, fractured and in only pieces and debris now,

It will come crashing down in a fountain that long ago stopped attracting any kind of audience,

Narrowly avoiding the mountaintops to the west;

Narrowly avoiding the spires to the east;

                              Along with some coinage still not cleaned out,

                                                                     and some car wash tokens whose value is

very understated…

You’ll still have to  pay for it though,

                     The tiny helicopter,

Not the derelict fountain- it  has already paid it’s debt.

Now let it sleep…

-Like you

Flying  like a shrieking banshee through a mall full of tourists and roundabouts and frozen yogurt,

in your dreams…

                                       Terrified like an animal in captivity,

in your dreams…

Hiding under a blanket to escape the explosions in the sky,

you will  be warm no matter what.

Someone left all the wet floor signs out too,

But at least they blew out the candles…

There has been an increase in bear sightings, and the water spots on the ceiling and you will know the end is near…

                   This is an area with no known bears, and very little rain…

Gaps, and lines and cracks in the pavement  all blister in endless submission

Of the sun and under the feet of lies and elephants  and working too much,

Your face is dirty with those same lines;

Your feet have been crushed by the feet of elephants;

come home,

come home,

and you put your feet back up

                              Each night the door is left unlocked,

(on accident)

and the thermostat is set to 73,

(on purpose)

at least you slept well…

at least you slept well…

 

 

I cant remember being impressed by giants

               I cant remember being impressed by giants,

I’m sure I didnt impress them either.

                                                      They would go out for wayward walks

                     and sometimes they would whistle louder then earthquakes.

                            Tectonic plates falling in the kitchen

                              dropping out of my arms,

dropping out of the sky,

There were diamonds there somewhere,

There were diamonds among the rubble and the crystal.

Scattered like building blocks,

scattered like diamonds.

An apocolypse plays in the backround,

dreamers dream in the backround,

and waiters drop more plates,

                                     and run in circles,

and the ground sinks a little more,

with each falling plate,

with each circular footstep,

and paint is applied to the walls,

and  so the room becomes a little bit bigger,

with each coat,

dont forget your coat,

                watch your step.

                                           There should be  more piano sounds,

There should be more light in this restaraunt,

                There should be more light in this hotel,

and champagne flutes,

but instead only broken glass,

                                       and static electricity.

              We missed the continental breakfast-

We missed the continental drift, too.

We should  be hearing  piano sounds by now…

             but there are only  empty stages

and birds on a wire,

                                                   and  so much applause,

so many doves…

                      I probably should have been impressed by  giants,

I should have shaken their hands

and purchased gold and real estate from them,

                                 But now  I can only watch,

                                                      as the giants walk away,

Going towards wherever it is giants go…

Carrying with them my trust and

            gold that should have been mine,

Gold that I earned-

                      but instead I am stuck watching from a window,

            Left only with  meaningless silver and a mess of plates, too.

                                         At least I am not left with sad songs,

I want to hear those trumpets! 

I want to see the liontamer, and the perfect storm!

              I want to remember like the elephants remember.

                                                        I cant remember being impressed by giants,

                                      I can only remember watching them walk towards the horizon,

                 wind blowing their hair,

and the ground bending under their feet,

until they are out of sight.

They wont look back.

As I watch from that window,

                               As I watch from my circus,

                                                 feeling no wind in my hair,

and hearing the roar of the lions,

                 I want to remember like the elphants remember.