he lifts his three-prong dowsing rod
searching the earth for water,
for liquid, truth serum.
transfixed by thick slippery
shifting snake-oil deposits,
their thick liquid tricking him,
repositories of false alarm.
he keeps his mind fixed on the thought of pure water,
pours his search forward,
courses and recourses once more.
Herkimer searches for water.
he bends his three-pronged rod toward the forest floor.
i see the hills beside my childhood house
dancing across my brain’s foray into other wavelengths,
picking up my own personal reality,
the latent combinations noone else exactly sees.
i shift-slip into one of so many potential dimensions,
where beautiful confluences move onto and through my brain’s rippled surface,
glimpsing into the alternative,
a branch of the fractal of the roads not taken.
i pluck my dream fingers through the strands
of stories i string together,
or ones, sometimes, strung together for me,
maybe. my brain sifts through some of the many maybes
that aren’t right here now, but could be,
the other potential paths that zoom right by,
riding on the backs of past modals,
moguls of the otherwise.
everything, every possibility
exists all at once, but for some reason,
we’ve agreed upon these ones.
we meet right here.
chance, fate, and destiny
the three sisters set out on a journey.
they stroll down their garden path together,
laughing, smelling the roses.
the summer sun glows golden above them,
they have time.
they follow their trail through the forest,
beneath the trees, treading the shadows of the trees,
they weave through the brambles, brush vines from their way.
chance, fate and destiny tread through the shadows of the trees,
roses behind their ears
through the spiny vines and brambles
to reach the edge of the river.
the water rushes in front of them,
rushing wind toward their faces,
gust tufts that lift locks of their hair
to dance in the air next to the roses by their cheeks.
the petals flutter,
the river rushes deep green.
chance, fate and destiny clasp hands,
they link fingers.
their hair lifts towards the trees behind them.
the sisters face the water
they walk together into the river
i flew to istanbul backward from bangladesh
i circumnavigated the globe
stopped in bahrain, mingled with turbaned men and draped women
watched the desert hot hot heat on the tawny fawn land
the arabian sea glowed blue, an unruly blue,
mottled with tortoiseshell fluctuations of color,
lumps of oil lifting up from underwater,
laced with slick traces.
i lifted into the air, watched the sea leave me
and flew to my first city
the intercontinental-bridge city
the home of the golden horn
the galata tower, the bosphorous,
dolmabahce palace,
gypsy christmas,
twenty million people
and one gold-fisted graffiti artist.
istanbul at the edges
and the center of the world.
what if the world were made of everything else
and not this?
make a list
of everything else the world could be
and get back to me,
read all of your what-ifs to me.
enough of all this what is,
recording, duplication
repetition, face recognition,
the again and again of every today,
heavily scrutinized, analyzed, prioritized,
filed, and kept for forever,
an emptily heavy forever,
burdened with the empty weight of every today’s mundane faces,
scanned and put in their places
to wait.
for later.
please make me a swirl of a world
that isn’t yet, that wasn’t already,
show me forms of your maybes,
the eerie shapes of ideas that rub up against the real,
the latent shapes that lie between our shared reality;
please show me the acrobats leaping from the subway tunnels
writhing their kaleidoscope bodies around the rails
the rats wearing hats, dancing, wiggling their whiskers
invisible trains full of millions of clowns getting down
the unearthed underground subterranean subliminal circus
birth it, unfurl it with your words.
show me the what if-world, the mysterious invisible possibility
waiting latent inside everything
all potential everything
trojan horse for trojan man
meets clammed-up clam clan
clandestine chowder encounters
underwater tidepool rules
bust out the buttresses
aunt pamela can do the can-can
baywatch the coast cost coach
watch the clock stop roast the most
rock docks and boast boats
coast, float, i’m modest;
no gloats
cause if i’m tough like that
i’m rough stuff like that
your dna’s doing good today,
that dna wrapped thataway,
the way it turns,
your ladder strategy
had me at hello.
the swirling curves of your spiral,
viral wires admirable,
the tiny piles of spiral fire dials,
your dna’s going buckwild right now.
can i taste it? does it come in trial size?
metabolize, metabolize
your science,
your tiny ribbons, your fixed rhythms,
your inner schisms, the incisions
the latent hesitation between pumps,
between rungs,
hung up on the spaces between your places
so much fun
so much fun
rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat,
your heart beats like that,
my heart beats like that.
you be the chalkboard,
i be the chalk,
you be the cuckoo,
i’ll be the clock
tick-tock, let’s talk
where your memories stop and the future begins
we’re all future, my friend
part fruit part flower power
recharge with a power shower
get down with a disco nap
dream of disco biscuit future blap
disco crisco on a finger trap
slipped whips ghost ride ghost ride the rap
ghost write the hat
slide forth and back
back slap back scratch baby got it like that
backwards i swerve these words don’t run
indelible forever come get some
rub your mind on my ideas
smear your face into my brain
come up dripping dna
simply dripping with dna
ribonucleic flavors tasty savory snack action
my story as told by acid
natural refraction
i bounce bounce bounce
off your mind mind mind
switch flips with wishes
tricky fishes slip in, on, around, and behind
and back again
this ladder is happening
really happening
aztec android botox alien
my name? the neverending
what was your name again?
rize, my prize, like fruitflies, a cloud of lazy legos
clustered up in lumber jungles, hazy, made of play-dough
blocks of rainy water drops, of legos, and play-dough
way to go, hero yo-yo, i said, way to go
way to manufacture a world of plastic rap tactics
words wrapped in plastic
words wrapped in plastic
the aftermath’s graphic
sham recast back again
is this really happening?
is this really happening?
daydreaming neon fantasy,
me, a neon fantasy,
a fancy-dancing aborigine
you haven’t seen the first of me
miles to go before i sleep
miles of milding-out, years of shenaniganery
queenly beaming, depth of feeling
20,000 leagues to go; how much is that in miles?
miles of dryspells between your smiles
miles of piles of other-other people
but you be my equal, not same, but equal
round hole for round peg
my legs between your legs
or the other way around
all the way around
i came to get down
underground
squeaky-greasy
ground meat like beef
veni, vidi, vici
ground heat like asphalt in the summer
waves emanating, streams of steam like steam cleaning
my heat’s so hot it’s like a hummingbird’s heart beating
heat like greenpeace warned you about,
heat like house effects das efx
drinking frosty efes on the terrace in istanbul
too hot to handle
too hot to handle
candle fire soul like a tiny thumb
my invisible, emotional heart starts to strum
rough and tumble tumbling tendrils
wind like grapevines around your tender pencil
be gentle, be gentle, be gentle, be gentle
a heart made of hair, a heart made of fake fur
a heart made of furniture, heart beats like a blur
a heart made of scarecrows, a heart made of tin
my heart’s not afraid of anything, nay i say anything
i’m not lion, my soul’s tiger, ain’t nothing heart can’t bear
lift your heart in the air, raise your heart into the air
give your heart some breathing room,
your heart was born free
like a monkey or a baby, your heart is made of gravy
wavy gravy, it’s the greatest, greatest heart of all time
yours and mine, yours and mine
hearts and minds of all time, about time.
it’s about time, this rhyme time slipping by
build a boat like a poet feel the force of the tide
build a code like old morse beat your words out in beeps
robot voiced rhetorical retorts calm as dawn like pal hal
soylent green is people! apocalypse now
tow your hold, slow your roll,
drift the darkness, lift your torch,
find the heart inside your darkest heart,
build it a trophy.
it’s yours.
rub your hungry underbelly
up against the dense grey sky
you both trembling,
flared at the edges
present your hidden symbolisms
your sudden hungry self and the subtle much more
shreds of incredible memories
whipping in my inner wind,
a ragged, tattered orange flag
the exact color of the sunrise.
the precarious climb up the side of a cabin,
the raw wooden geodesic dome,
pulling myself up the side
hand over fist with a thin rope
last in line
dangling.
slipping scared at the tip
the switch wrist lift at the precipice
in one piece
relief
standing with the skater boys on the pinnacle
awkward teenage eagles staring out at the grey sky,
the kings of the mountain.
painting strange pictures of my past
on your sleeping back,
ancient castles and underwater kingdoms,
carnivals and carousels,
locomotives and toe-shoes,
thin ribbons of india ink
fixing my memories upon to your body.
your skin fills with my fables,
epic legends,
filthy trinkets,
candy bracelets,
low-cut criss-cross tank tops.
moments with strangers in dark corners.
afternoons with best friends on secret cliff edges,
leaning out over the rocks,
staring down, down at treetops tiny below us
watching shadows of hawk wings
circle on the angles of the evergreens.
i place my paintbrush on your shoulderblade.
the sky gleams sweet tangerine
a knife to slice through space and time 