what Daedalus has
pasted you
to his sinewy arms
before reaching up
to a paper sky?
yet you rain
down on me,
assuming the form of
the ash and sulphur
from the mouth of
St Helen
making my hair
filthy.
yet at the same
time you are the
monsoon that washes
me clean.
i cannot change my
form
like a chameleon.
i am stuck in
unmoldable clay
i am the pot--
already fired
how carefully i
collected sacred bathwater
and saved it in my
highschool locker
only to throw it
away
at the first sight
of dark
we're sitting in a
lounge
we're lounging in
my head
the talking drum of
african
lore sings
mournfully
--it is
struck-beaten
by a neo-bohemian
ska child.
i am sitting in a
an armchair
and feeling
the beatnik-swahili
in my bones
i think of nothing
and everything
but mostly of
siamese twins
two blonde women
joined at
the breast and
picking
out fish at the pet
store
picking out just
the right one.
we're sitting in a
lounge
we're lounging in
my head
we're both trying
to squeeze
into a chair that
once
belonged to someone
that someone took
such
care of-- only to
toss it aside.
is there some holy
Ghost
dancing to the
swahili voice?
what Lao-Tsu
is hiding inside
this cast-off
armchair?
what drumwoven
beats can rip away
the cracked leather
exterior
to find it?
The return of the
Question
mark it's been
called by some
though\
it's much harder to
write in the
affirmative.
they say that
someone
once wanted to burn
a
Phoenician
library--
but their books
were written on clay
Forever
preserved.
i must fire my clay
pots
in an attempt to
recapture
that rhythm.
to
recapture that Godmosthigh
but we were sitting
in a lounge
we were lounging in
my head
i found an iguana
that day
tucked neatly away
behind the
cellophane.
i didn't expect to
find you
waiting
Mr Galapagos Iguana
i hope you'll
excuse my species
with our disease
infested
beasties of the
field.
leaving you with
nowhere to
go but a
cigarettebox.
i, like you, iguana
cannot change my
skin
cannot be a
chameleon
but must forever
remain iguana.
i cannot hide from
the
pollution for the
god of Abraham
said there's
nothing they can do now.
what were you doing
that day
peeping up from the
cigarette wrapper?
we were sitting in
a lounge
we were lounging in my head