That Rat’s Death

I’m proud that I fed my avocado to the mice this week To see that scattered dust around the hole I felt dis- appointed the apple had been spared the throbbing soup, home he said it’s a storm it’s a storm I thought am I allowed to ask entire questions to take this space alone you bobbing you painted in my dog’s face so care- fully some kind of violence stretches the thought so long and allows the horns of words to touch each other. I think of him taking this much space. you don’t know about this dish towel for that matter who was I in another time giving the tails so much puzzled that these spices went someplace else they did today in a sandwich the empty hall into which I am reading the empty country an entire country I wanted all of them how I would like just one to pick things up in its cities and its rain its coast the outer coat 78 rpm silly news- papers turning cat on a porch and other countries nearby & home ready for me when I have something to say or show if ever my empty mistakes my empty vase my empty powers of horror my empty sex o bring the snow that rat’s death killed me because i would see it for days over and over and it hardly could be the same rat whose insides whisked the street we don’t think that war is such an incredible mess but it was just yesterday and in ancient poems years ago in the past dying the balloon just bursts it cannot bring u back again the huge cool breath the lake doesn’t want you anymore or her arms her sweet muff or breast the storm the past. but no I won’t leave my cheese out for them anymore and I must be the last person in the world in new york to read him who told us about mice that sing & fill empty auditoriums like us and our singing hearts our formula for bringing it out. Pulling the receptacle apart watch the tiny ship floating on it smithereens I ducked the tail edging over taking a little bit more. The price of wider concepts is not choosing your drops oh flicking me off reminding me of you everyone yell at once Two Rabbit legs jutting out I keep my childhood around almost more than every- one and a mouse can share my house wet toot tootsie it’s kind of great the whole thing is relative. Since I ad- mired his mountains I imagin- ed I was in his landscapes but opening packages is occurring all over the place. That’s a strong image and I feel like the smallness is directly rooted forgetting to use the new cal- endar I planned. These marks (I imagined) are the sources all the milk flooding wildly over the rolling hills and out of the sun’s comical eyes. Not tears but creamy drops of mammalian weather. I’m given real information and the most difficult part is blindly creating the space where the parts I can’t see or even hear spread out (like the night in Paris when I walked to the movies ) onto my desk and the surrounding hills into the bleachers where everyone is pounding themselves bloody in salute of the hunt all I ever wanted was dinner or at least his love the delight I see in him is equally empty for anyone & probably that’s his stealth. Inner lake. There’s a car a maroon a colourless oval I can imagine the seats and the feeling of hearing a song as we’re weaving over hills. There’s no break. Ev- erybody I ever saw in my seacoast community is already facing the problems huge and gloomy I grant you and the night spills on my keys which are splayed over the counter and outside it’s light. & they are flip- ping their cards every one of them.