Thursday, November 6, 2008

Mask Rooze

I am outside the boundaries of physics.
I am outer space inside a small body held together by sinuous tendons, chalky bones, and tough, dry meat.
Raw. Chalky. Sinuous.
They are break down and soon there will be nothing left to keep in my inner-outer space.
Physics will loose all hope of ever regaining me.
Biology will be forgotten and thrown to compost.
I am outside the boundaries.
Can't you feel the space between "you" and "I"?
They'll ask me this and other human paraphernalia, trying for a nerve to attach to. To tether me down back inside the body.
But, I am outside their boundaries.
Not for a country, a town, a love, or knowledge.
No, not for anything.
I will let my body fall away to not quite dust in the praries; sopping marsh in the tundra; or sylph on the shield.
I will let it slip away until it's wrinkly and supple like a rum soaked raisin.
Then my space can sleep, buzzing and warm, before inching out of the drunk body (It isn't a "my" thing anymore; no possessive pronoun is needed) and into the sky.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

the man with the stroller

I followed the old man with the stroller until he disappeared behind a building. He seemed like he did not care about anything except pushing his stroller. I pictured a dog to be in it, or maybe it was just empty. I felt sorry for him. Now I feel sorry for myself because I assume he is crazy.