Conditions, July 4

Cover of Planet of the Blind....man and dog....

All these poets writing of poetry
Like peacocks thinking only of their tails
Meanwhile the blazing sun
The road ahead

**

Stray cat follows me home
Leaves whisper
Although I live far inland
There’s the green chill of the sea

**

Mother, if I could call you back
I’d ask, as I failed to do
When you were with us,
Who hurt you so?

**

“Humerus”

I am sad like summer sun
No name for it
Bone words unwrit

My wholly
Imagined shrink—Doctor
Sigmoid Fraud—
Sez
Have a good
Colonic…

**

Today

I see my hands
As attached
To an old man
Who isn’t me

**

America:

A dream of teeth—I woke chewing a rope—a French knot from the Commune, a vicious thing, braided with vengeance. Stars at the window, topiary gardens far off. If only I could escape my bonds. My dear life, my stubborn jaws and the hourglass just out of reach. “Oh,” I cried, “what apparatus of report have we here?” A mouse in the wall was chewing too. Yes forest to foothills I heard—every live thing making it by means of teeth. In such a world there is no will to charm. There’s only the white and blue moon, and hunger incessant, valorous, gnawing at history.

**

Down river a fox hunts for mice
July is life itself
And defies occupation

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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