Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Freud's Cigar

the heat you engender when you cut deep into the bone
its marrow imaginary as a subterranean river
dream of the voices that have kept you waiting
deep inside the meat of your computer
electrical waterways passages of zeroes and dots
open socket to a paradise that seems too wet to touch
and a clown's nose at the end of the trail

     congratulations kid
you're in heaven

painted on the inside of your eye 
is an image of the empire state building
in thirty or so years it'll have been there a century
it's still in front of your eyeball as you sleep
as you walk your leggy poodle round and round it
which leg the dog sniffs which leg to use
everything's a fire hydrant sometimes
and the butcher shop's closed
and all the loose bones are locked inside and safe
so which leg to lift now
which leg to lift

Originally published in Bay Area Poets Seasonal Review, Spring/Summer 2010

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