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---- word biscuit ----
-- lizards bite my feet edition --
03-30-96 - ray heinrich
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it's that time of year again:
(yea, it's long, so skip to the next one if you want.
i HAVE TO write these things, but YOU, really,
don't have to read them. it's all optional.)
< another god-damned easter poem >
most of you was naked
i
on the other hand
was getting close
to the end of the conveyer belt
dumping us off into the abyss
or
into all the chocolate we'd ever want
but
there was no way to find out
which
it was
it seems that way with us
all of us who vowed
to always sleep naked under the same sheet
now you can walk up on the proverbial street
and ask either of us this question
and get a reply like you'd expect
from nazis at nuremburg
or commies before HUAC
or some poor queer bastard
needing a break from a judge of 85 who knows
this pervert should be damned
i can't help any of this
i tell myself i got to take a shower
and wash all this off for an hour or two
wash the sins like the girl called christ
(she was in drag)
that died
or didn't
a few days from now
i have no idea what to make of all that
these people come to my door
and tell me one thing
and after 3am on TV
some other people tell me ten other things
but all of them
want me to send my money
where can i find christ
so i can give it directly to him?
will it burn my hands when i do this?
will i perish in fire for some vile perversion
that i forgot about?
or will i be forgiven?
i really need to be forgiven
like everyone i know needs to be forgiven
for watching the starving people on TV
for truely feeling compassion
for about 15 seconds
till the next commercial tells me
to buy corn chips
and I WILL
oh god i promise I WILL
buy them
and eat each one savoring it
as it changes to YOU my CHRIST
changes on this EASTER of remembrance
changes to the flesh of the flesh i am eating
and grows large in me
i sometimes think of the child i am to bear
of my mother telling me
i could never do this because i was a boy
but i never could believe her
and i refuse to this day
i will become large with my savior
i will give birth to some salvation
and the truth that has always escaped me
shall be evident to this child
which i will press from me
in pain and victory
like the rock
upon which all that follows will be built
- - -
< the rain comes >
some tiny drops
i cannot
call them tears
i cannot call them
anything
the rain comes one day
it leaves the next
we are all like that
living
from one sun
to the next
- -
< adultery >
your breasts were just the right size
just the right brown
for the light
one window away
balanced between
the two parts of a day
our love
innocent
but only to us
and they
could always be waiting outside
but not in this room
where two months rent
was more than enough
for eternal love
for your breasts
the right size of my hands
your breasts
that sucked firm in my mouth
and the constant surprise
of your thin sweet milk
as his baby
slept quietly beside us
- - -
< new morning >
the smooth perfection
of a new morning
the promise that today
everything
will be done
that today
old letters
asking old questions
will be answered
that today
the very best that's in us
will come out
and will bless
and be blessed
by the smooth perfection
of morning
- -
< down by the river >
the body
smooth and white
is waiting no longer
and the stab wound
washed by the water
looks like a scratch
but admits your finger
like a small mouth
- - -
< not with yellow flowers >
i start out trying
to write a poem about yellow flowers
about the ones i saw today
these yellow flowers
are the first flowers of spring
even before the skunk cabbages
in the low parts of the river bed
but another poem about yellow flowers?
it's like making a movie about two
people finding each other and
disliking each other then
falling deeply in love
it's been done
by wonderful poets
(the yellow flowers, i mean)
but maybe you haven't read them
those wonderful poets
and you're reading me right now
so possibly
i can get away with it
but i want more
and who has more?
TV
the TV knows
i turn on
the "today's worst" news
and listen to the body counts
of the firearms companies
and watch
how that couple from the 23rd floor
learned to fly
and listen
to the 911 recording
that child left
see
it works
that's how you do it
not with yellow flowers
- - -
< long trucks >
this time of year
especially
just off the interstate
walking my dog
taking a piss myself
just listening
to all those tires
- -
< basic training >
exhausted
we finish another hike
in the desert around Fort Bliss, El Paso
laughing
at fatigues made white under our arms
from the salt left from our sweat
bullshitting
in the large, open barracks showers
my friend George says
"basic training is like a REALLY long gym class"
"but you get to carry real weapons"
i say
"but they're not loaded"
says george
"do you REALLY want Wilkins (another friend of ours)
walking behind YOU with a loaded weapon?"
"NOOOOOOO!" we both shout.
(but guess who ends up in Viet Nam)
on that cue
about six more guys walk into the showers
i can't help noticing
their cute little dorks
bouncing
on top of their balls as they walk
followed obediently by their
tight little asses
and the muscles of their legs
are pumped and distinct
from the miles of walking
i immediately start zen meditation
filling my head
with the sound of one hand clapping
because
in basic training
it is considered rude
especially in the shower
to get a hard-on
from watching your fellow soldiers
then i'm saved
as George motions we should leave
you see
George doesn't like the open showers
he can't stand the thought
that some queer
might be watching him
don't worry George
i say
your butt is way too ugly
he laughs
we laugh together
- - -
< taking your time >
knowing
the exact soft place
the muzzle presses
beneath your chin
pointing the barrel
your brain
calculates a path
straight through itself
imagines the bullet
a quiet
leisurely
moment later
- -
< the glass keeps me from touching you >
the glass keeps me
from touching you
i
am the only one thinking this
about you
so why
is it so hard to
hold you in my arms
a million million
arms hold
a million million
us
you and me
so why is it so hard
to the left and right
they fall so easily
like leaves
over and over
greeting
the start and end
- - -
< your soft breath >
tonight
i have dead people
singing to me
it's as easy
as putting a record on
it's as easy
as remembering your soft breath
through all these years
- -
< no one to speak to >
finally
my dad
has no one to speak to
death is that way
for all of us
though we cannot admit it now
even though we say we can
all of us
will finally
have no one to speak to
so practice now
to speak to yourself
to understand
to listen
to your own voice
- -
this is the END.
but soon (well, maybe not so soon),
but assuming a bit of luck,
we (me and that dog on my lap) will be back.
hugs and all till then
and comments always appreciated
and i still intend to answer
you people i haven't answered yet
these intentions paving a smooth
easy path to whatever hell awaits
( but it's going to have chocolate,
so it ain't that bad )
:))))
-ray ( ray@vais.net )
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(oh, and all this stuff is (C) 1996 ray heinrich)
THE REAL END
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