Sunday, April 3, 2011

4 OF 30

This crazed chinoiserie face,
cracked statuary head i scrape the whiskers from
ape and beast in the hollow saint,
chipped bottle of bloody flux and black humor
comes off in my hands in sleep,
flakes like our water damaged walkway
trap for the mailman. here is a tooth,
a charm, a mask

in the worm-rich dirt of the front yard,
bulbous roots put forth snaking tendrils
crawl towards light,
red rimmed eyes opening
i am holding a jawbone, a talisman
an ivory rattle

there are tutelary spirits,
dancing dead, great bears
jeweled snakes and blue devils,
grey doctors assemble at my bedside
every night i am bound to a wheel, flayed
awake reassembled, my guts filled with stones and ice
extra pieces held in my hands

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