—-ode to wausau (“the far away place”)

this town is atypical to any foreigner
any member without reverence for its constant
social maintenance, family networking
i am your dirty messenger
the outside informer
upon your untouched yet far from cleansing morality
wiping dustballs, years of drunken affirmation
that solitude does not breed indifference
but sensitivity
of course
and i would point to the graves of all that never had a funeral
all that never had a flower
you speak as if you were an abused native on your rented land
but rape is in your blood
and this world’s shape is self-evident
to the degree by which your indignation will breed more of what you insidiously ignore
to squat without conscience
for i am
only the messenger

reality is decieving in its palpability
how could i reconcile guilt i cannot feel?
i only mime this dance of moral consistency

the green chlorophyl leaves leer patiently
outside my window
everyday they tingle together like soundless chimes
to earth’s song, a purposeful dance, a painless existence
I wish I could be as certain in my fate as them

mike—

i press you into my palm
grind with heavy word
sincerity out of you
with thumb and need
as you once did
ground my displaced body with one foot
this wavering idea of self from self
you from me
would you think me crazy if i informed upon myself
the awful confusion
(of not accepting the obvious)
the distance, the physical space
that Einstein insists we cannot co-inhabit
at once
ever
(i wish i had such clarity) why does that make me feel so alone?
would you believe in me
if i told you i needed something to believe in?

the sometimes contrast of paste skin and tanned hide
will set my chin firm
with a resolve
only years of repetitious labor could nod in acceptance

———–

yes, father,
the ice cream has been crystallized
again
i left out the plastic tub in pure defilement of practicality
the mole of creation: process never pretty
to identify the “i” from the “we”

mother will beat her padlock chest
and
procure in
outstretched forearms
a not-so-secret hidden book of the unrequited life lived in theory, more than action
so that I may
one day
immortalize her waeknesses in my own fated progeny

water errodes the most stubborn of stones
while the light padding of so many dewed feet
can crush soil into sediment
like berry-juice