I know what you were up to,
And I have learned the meaning of concupiscent.
My relatives are from Clarksville, Tennessee,
And I very much doubt they give a rat's ass about the jar you placed there,
Nor have taken note.
Try this:
The cat is dead. I saw it. It had been flattened by a car. I found it when I came home from school. It was disturbing to see. No ice cream. Nor snowy branches. Nor Sunday mornings.
Only death in yellow furry flatness.
Oh, Wallace. Damned cat.
But my songs do not sing.
Sing them, then.
But the bells do not ring.
Ring them then.
But the birds do not sing.
Shoot them, then.
But the graves do not sting.
Loot them, then.
Oh how brave to proffer theology in the guise of a poem.
Monday, July 29, 2013
On Memory
It begins with a flash:
I stepped on the shattered plastic of a cheap gum ball dispenser
It lay at the foot of a Silver Maple in my the back yard of my childhood,
With a great, wide base
And roots that grew certainly
With the naive permanence of childhood.
It expands to a space:
A shed, a sickly Red Maple, a juvenile Pin Oak.
No tree unclimbed,
No fear uncalculated.
I jumped from the roof of that shed a hundred times,
Knowing even then that I fell with the graceful lightness of youth.
It ends with people:
A retired neighbor, planting banana peppers behind the white fence,
His grandson, a wiffle ball mate,
Legions of ghost runners,
Zacharies, Zacharies, Zacharies!
And their endless He-Men and Skeletors!
It lingers:
The sickly tree is gone.
The action figures packed away.
My knees too weak and my body too fat for a fall of ten feet.
And the neighbors, too, are gone, all of them.
But their houses remain, like this.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Ben
The moon
Came out tonight
and shone
for several hours.
There were many opportunities
To see it,
The moon,
Which shone all night long in a cloudless sky.
It's there now,
Waning gibbous,
Above my face as I recline in my chair facing toward Claremont,
And the possibility of sleep before sunrise.
I will miss this night.
I will wake up early in the morning
Before the sun rises,
While the drama of the night is still unfolding,
Though the colors become distinct along the horizon,
Flooding the world with waves of red and yellow.
Breathe down on me fall,
Remind me not of spring.
And night to sleep still.
Came out tonight
and shone
for several hours.
There were many opportunities
To see it,
The moon,
Which shone all night long in a cloudless sky.
It's there now,
Waning gibbous,
Above my face as I recline in my chair facing toward Claremont,
And the possibility of sleep before sunrise.
I will miss this night.
I will wake up early in the morning
Before the sun rises,
While the drama of the night is still unfolding,
Though the colors become distinct along the horizon,
Flooding the world with waves of red and yellow.
Breathe down on me fall,
Remind me not of spring.
And night to sleep still.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Der Panther
The girl and the boy she was beginning to trust were at the zoo walking through the exhibit of big cats. The day was hot and humid. It was July, and six months had passed since they had first had sex. The boy was small and scrawny, but his eyes were beautiful. He took photographs of the girl with his cell phone as she stood awkwardly in juvenile poses in front of the exhibits, usually with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.8
In the heat of the day it was difficult to find many cats. Still, some were out. Zookeepers had constructed a walkway above the tigers who roamed through a shady garden of tall, deciduous trees. A large one lay sprawled on its side in the grass, and the girl noticed his broad underbelly and massive paws. He rolled onto his back and whipped his tail, stretching his neck and pawing the sky. It reminded her of her father's house cat that she used to play with when she visited him on weekends.4
"Stand there, in front of the sign."3
"Shut up, I'm reading."4
Tigers are the biggest cats in the world, and Amur tigers are the biggest subspecies (type) of tigers. They stand about three feet tall at the shoulder. . . .3
"Quick, turn around. He's right behind you and I'll miss the shot."5
This isn't quite as tall as a lion, but Amur tigers are longer and usually weigh more. Adult males can grow up to 11 feet long and weigh over 600 pounds. . . .4
"He's moving! Quick!"
She turned around and hissed at the boy. She bent her knees and clawed her right hand, making an ugly face. The boy took a photo and the girl continued reading.
Females are smaller--up to nine feet long and about 370 pounds. Now those are some big kitties!
"Now those are some big kitties!" the girl read as she giggled.
"God, look at this. You look like a retard."
In the photo, the girl's eyes were half closed, and her mouth was parted like a paraplegic preparing for an oversized bite of mashed vegetables. The girl looked back into the den where her tiger was still lying on his back. She wanted to jump in and bury her fingers in his soft fur. She imagined lying in the grass next to him as she rested her head on his chest, feeling the deep, rumbling purr pass through her neck and shoulders, down through her heart and lungs as she breathed deeply the freshness of animal musk mixed with grass and dried oak leaves. She moved her hands down slowly to pat his belly as his muscles tightened in a full-bodied yawn. He rolled to face her, looking disinterestedly into her eyes. Undangerously. Ferociously.
The boy walked toward the lions, posting the image to Instagram.
There were many African lions basking in the sun, and a lioness was pacing the perimeter of the exhibit, attracting dozens of spectators to each viewing area. The boy passed the red rocks of the enclosure disdainfully, keeping a safe distance from toddlers and grandmothers who clogged narrow spaces that offered various perspectives of the lions in a "natural" habitat of European fescue and North American clay. Walled corridors of cement formed into smooth and bulbous rust-colored columns enclosed the lions, and thick plexiglass windows built into the sides of the retainer provided opportunities for three-year-old boys to press slobbering mouths inches from the huntress's deadly jaws. The girl stole glimpses of the lioness in gaps between cribs and knees. The muscles of her shoulders rippled beneath golden fur. The girl wanted to press in, to place her palm on the glass. She turned her head to find the boy. He grew smaller in his hurry to be alone.
Passing by the kings and queens of the African savannas, the boy arrived at a series of vaulted iron cages where the less popular cats were displayed. When the girl caught up to him, he was standing next to a grey-haired man with wrinkled knees who was pointing to a crevice in the artificial mountain constructed inside the cage. All she could see was a puff of black at the tip of a motionless spotted tail.
Snow leopards (Uncia uncia) live at high elevations, and their bodies are well-suited to mountainous conditions. They have a well-developed chest, short forelimbs, and a three-foot-long tail that helps them keep their balance.
"Do you see them?" the old man asked the girl. "There are two, right up on that rock."
The girl looked again.
"These two are locked up together for good," he said with a smile. "It's not natural, though. These are solitary creatures. They live most of their lives alone in the mountains. Fascinating creatures!"
"I don't see it."
"There, right up there. See the tail?"
She did.
"Look right above the tail. About a foot. See the other one?"
She looked again.
"In the mountains they come together just to mate, but most times its just the mother and her cubs, if she has any. But they live alone, mostly. Fascinating creatures!"
The girl looked at the old man. He wore a golden wedding band, but she saw no companion. The man kept looking up at the snow leopards, smiling. The boy looked at his phone. The girl looked back to the false mountain.
"I can only see the one."
"Oh, she's there alright. They're not easy to see. Maybe you need to be a foot taller." The man looked down at the girl and smiled. She trusted him. She imagined the two cats rolled up in a ball of white and black spotted bodies twisted into oneness, hiding themselves from spectators high up in the mountains, alone, where nothing could touch them.
"Looks like your cat is on the move," the man said.
He was talking about the boy. He was always on the move, but she wanted to stay a little while longer to rest in the silent space the old man had found. She wanted to believe that there were two snow leopards in the cave even though her eyes could only find one. She could not move until she had found it. There was a flick.
"There!" He looked at the girl again. She was smiling broadly, revealing high cheekbones and a dimple in her chin. "You saw it that time, didn't you?"
She turned to tell the boy, but he was gone. She looked down the sidewalk and saw him standing at the next exhibit. All day he had been impatient to see the bears. It was not until she caught up to him that she began to feel alone again.
The boy stood next to a sign in front of a stark, black cage where a solitary leopard pawed and chewed a heavy plastic ball. The cat's ears lay down playfully on his head.
The Amur leopard is among the rarest of all the leopards. It lives its solitary life in the mountain forests of eastern Russia, where it ranges farther north than any other type of leopard. . . .
"Here, pretend like you're afraid."
"Shut up, I'm reading."
This cat may soon be extinct in the wild. . . .
"Come on, give me a sexy pose!"
The girl ignored the boy.
Although only a few dozen Amur leopards remain in the wild, the Saint Louis Zoo has had success in breeding this highly endangered cat.
"This is so sad. These leopards are almost extinct. Pretty soon there's not going to be any left except in these nasty cages."
The boy tweeted her sentiments: #savethetigers #murica
She watched the panther as it tried to mouth the ball that rested between its forelimbs. He stood on his back paws, crouched over the ball like a grown dog playfully harassing a puppy. It seemed happy as it panted in the summer heat.
"This is depressing. It reminds me of that poem about the birds that are locked up in a cage but just keep singing anyway."
"Nah, this guy's got it good. He probably gets to eat six t-bones a day. No wonder they're all dead in the wild. If I were a tiger, I'd try to get captured.
"God, you are so stupid."
"Stupid in mad, crazy love for you, babe." The boy's blue eyes smoldered, and he put his thin but strong arms around her waist. "You want an ice cream?"
She wanted ice cream. She wanted sea salt carmel ice cream. But she wanted more to be held closer, so she put her hands on his hips.
"Tell me you won't leave me."
"I won't leave you."
She would have felt better if he had asked her to make the same promise, but she was glad that he did not.
They spent the rest of the day looking at alligators and polar bears, avoiding crowds and stealing kisses in dark corners of the indoor exhibits. As they passed through the aviary the boy found a small daisy growing on a long, thin stalk. He picked the flower and tied it into a ring that he placed on the ring finger of her left hand. Her heart fluttered. Still, she fought to remember the snow leopards, and moved the ring to her right hand. She said it didn't fit. He said he could tie it tighter if she wanted him to.
She said it was more comfortable on her other hand.
In the heat of the day it was difficult to find many cats. Still, some were out. Zookeepers had constructed a walkway above the tigers who roamed through a shady garden of tall, deciduous trees. A large one lay sprawled on its side in the grass, and the girl noticed his broad underbelly and massive paws. He rolled onto his back and whipped his tail, stretching his neck and pawing the sky. It reminded her of her father's house cat that she used to play with when she visited him on weekends.4
"Stand there, in front of the sign."3
"Shut up, I'm reading."4
Tigers are the biggest cats in the world, and Amur tigers are the biggest subspecies (type) of tigers. They stand about three feet tall at the shoulder. . . .3
"Quick, turn around. He's right behind you and I'll miss the shot."5
This isn't quite as tall as a lion, but Amur tigers are longer and usually weigh more. Adult males can grow up to 11 feet long and weigh over 600 pounds. . . .4
"He's moving! Quick!"
She turned around and hissed at the boy. She bent her knees and clawed her right hand, making an ugly face. The boy took a photo and the girl continued reading.
Females are smaller--up to nine feet long and about 370 pounds. Now those are some big kitties!
"Now those are some big kitties!" the girl read as she giggled.
"God, look at this. You look like a retard."
In the photo, the girl's eyes were half closed, and her mouth was parted like a paraplegic preparing for an oversized bite of mashed vegetables. The girl looked back into the den where her tiger was still lying on his back. She wanted to jump in and bury her fingers in his soft fur. She imagined lying in the grass next to him as she rested her head on his chest, feeling the deep, rumbling purr pass through her neck and shoulders, down through her heart and lungs as she breathed deeply the freshness of animal musk mixed with grass and dried oak leaves. She moved her hands down slowly to pat his belly as his muscles tightened in a full-bodied yawn. He rolled to face her, looking disinterestedly into her eyes. Undangerously. Ferociously.
The boy walked toward the lions, posting the image to Instagram.
There were many African lions basking in the sun, and a lioness was pacing the perimeter of the exhibit, attracting dozens of spectators to each viewing area. The boy passed the red rocks of the enclosure disdainfully, keeping a safe distance from toddlers and grandmothers who clogged narrow spaces that offered various perspectives of the lions in a "natural" habitat of European fescue and North American clay. Walled corridors of cement formed into smooth and bulbous rust-colored columns enclosed the lions, and thick plexiglass windows built into the sides of the retainer provided opportunities for three-year-old boys to press slobbering mouths inches from the huntress's deadly jaws. The girl stole glimpses of the lioness in gaps between cribs and knees. The muscles of her shoulders rippled beneath golden fur. The girl wanted to press in, to place her palm on the glass. She turned her head to find the boy. He grew smaller in his hurry to be alone.
Passing by the kings and queens of the African savannas, the boy arrived at a series of vaulted iron cages where the less popular cats were displayed. When the girl caught up to him, he was standing next to a grey-haired man with wrinkled knees who was pointing to a crevice in the artificial mountain constructed inside the cage. All she could see was a puff of black at the tip of a motionless spotted tail.
Snow leopards (Uncia uncia) live at high elevations, and their bodies are well-suited to mountainous conditions. They have a well-developed chest, short forelimbs, and a three-foot-long tail that helps them keep their balance.
"Do you see them?" the old man asked the girl. "There are two, right up on that rock."
The girl looked again.
"These two are locked up together for good," he said with a smile. "It's not natural, though. These are solitary creatures. They live most of their lives alone in the mountains. Fascinating creatures!"
"I don't see it."
"There, right up there. See the tail?"
She did.
"Look right above the tail. About a foot. See the other one?"
She looked again.
"In the mountains they come together just to mate, but most times its just the mother and her cubs, if she has any. But they live alone, mostly. Fascinating creatures!"
The girl looked at the old man. He wore a golden wedding band, but she saw no companion. The man kept looking up at the snow leopards, smiling. The boy looked at his phone. The girl looked back to the false mountain.
"I can only see the one."
"Oh, she's there alright. They're not easy to see. Maybe you need to be a foot taller." The man looked down at the girl and smiled. She trusted him. She imagined the two cats rolled up in a ball of white and black spotted bodies twisted into oneness, hiding themselves from spectators high up in the mountains, alone, where nothing could touch them.
"Looks like your cat is on the move," the man said.
He was talking about the boy. He was always on the move, but she wanted to stay a little while longer to rest in the silent space the old man had found. She wanted to believe that there were two snow leopards in the cave even though her eyes could only find one. She could not move until she had found it. There was a flick.
"There!" He looked at the girl again. She was smiling broadly, revealing high cheekbones and a dimple in her chin. "You saw it that time, didn't you?"
She turned to tell the boy, but he was gone. She looked down the sidewalk and saw him standing at the next exhibit. All day he had been impatient to see the bears. It was not until she caught up to him that she began to feel alone again.
The boy stood next to a sign in front of a stark, black cage where a solitary leopard pawed and chewed a heavy plastic ball. The cat's ears lay down playfully on his head.
The Amur leopard is among the rarest of all the leopards. It lives its solitary life in the mountain forests of eastern Russia, where it ranges farther north than any other type of leopard. . . .
"Here, pretend like you're afraid."
"Shut up, I'm reading."
This cat may soon be extinct in the wild. . . .
"Come on, give me a sexy pose!"
The girl ignored the boy.
Although only a few dozen Amur leopards remain in the wild, the Saint Louis Zoo has had success in breeding this highly endangered cat.
"This is so sad. These leopards are almost extinct. Pretty soon there's not going to be any left except in these nasty cages."
The boy tweeted her sentiments: #savethetigers #murica
She watched the panther as it tried to mouth the ball that rested between its forelimbs. He stood on his back paws, crouched over the ball like a grown dog playfully harassing a puppy. It seemed happy as it panted in the summer heat.
"This is depressing. It reminds me of that poem about the birds that are locked up in a cage but just keep singing anyway."
"Nah, this guy's got it good. He probably gets to eat six t-bones a day. No wonder they're all dead in the wild. If I were a tiger, I'd try to get captured.
"God, you are so stupid."
"Stupid in mad, crazy love for you, babe." The boy's blue eyes smoldered, and he put his thin but strong arms around her waist. "You want an ice cream?"
She wanted ice cream. She wanted sea salt carmel ice cream. But she wanted more to be held closer, so she put her hands on his hips.
"Tell me you won't leave me."
"I won't leave you."
She would have felt better if he had asked her to make the same promise, but she was glad that he did not.
They spent the rest of the day looking at alligators and polar bears, avoiding crowds and stealing kisses in dark corners of the indoor exhibits. As they passed through the aviary the boy found a small daisy growing on a long, thin stalk. He picked the flower and tied it into a ring that he placed on the ring finger of her left hand. Her heart fluttered. Still, she fought to remember the snow leopards, and moved the ring to her right hand. She said it didn't fit. He said he could tie it tighter if she wanted him to.
She said it was more comfortable on her other hand.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Bella Donna
Surveyor of Liberty's kingdom,
Do not gaze so innocently
With hilt in hand.
You have slain Athena,
Brooding over Greece
In warrior's dress.
Capped in Trojan war helmet,
Blinding the Republic
With screeching birds of prey.
Drop the laurel bough.
Don instead the pileus,
Prostitute of War.
You will fall from your perch
In kairotic coming
As all who mock Zeus must.
And Bacchus will dance
In moonshade and darkness,
Dripping with wine and freedom,
When Dian returns to brood
Upon the Hall of Liberty
With bow and arrow,
Vested in Virtue,
Goddess of Moonlight,
To restore our sight.
Do not gaze so innocently
With hilt in hand.
You have slain Athena,
Brooding over Greece
In warrior's dress.
Capped in Trojan war helmet,
Blinding the Republic
With screeching birds of prey.
Drop the laurel bough.
Don instead the pileus,
Prostitute of War.
You will fall from your perch
In kairotic coming
As all who mock Zeus must.
And Bacchus will dance
In moonshade and darkness,
Dripping with wine and freedom,
When Dian returns to brood
Upon the Hall of Liberty
With bow and arrow,
Vested in Virtue,
Goddess of Moonlight,
To restore our sight.
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