or Pupil Moon Regrets
(My ellipses have
eclipses...)...
Pupil moon,
your eyes speak with their tiny black tongues,
their bright round throats.
Your eyes have teeth, too.
I have felt them biting into my flesh
as if into new hamburger...
(Buddha's cattle never had to worry.
If only I were a sentient cow in India.
My amputated hoof could become a holy relic.
I could divide over infinite zeroes.
Calculate me. I dare you,)
I absolve you.
I am a stepping ladder.
I orbit.
I am on the way to something,
some satellite,
some planetoid,
a fingernail of atmosphere on my tongue...
a gentle green fog in my eyes...
I am filtered sand.
I am an hourglass.
Wing me at the far star.
Didn't I tell you I want black holes in my blue jeans?
(Torn to shreds,
I walk home.
I lock the door,
tightly.
I open the TV;
the borrowed light flares in my eyes...)
I am a scrolling image.
I am a composite of pop culture
and alternate culture
and underground.
(I never touched (a woman's lips)...)
I walk flights of stairs
rather than
stand silent in elevators.
I like to lie.
I'm lying right now.
I want to lie for a living.
I will get money, and it will lie down for me.
I will lie down for me
(and die...
(of regret...
(of regret;)
the only thing anybody really dies of.)...)...
12/13/97, 1/18/98, 2/16/98
Jim Genzano
