Saturday, May 06, 2017
Entangled
X from teen camp reports trying
events in a failing argot;
miles off, a Y trifling
with suicide--speaking recently,
though, quite intent. Both these
states hazardous, but
actually, X mocks
everything presently
as mere “language.“
So does she,
but won’t say it.
He lives to play
violent games
on his computer.
Our Faith to believe
he’s murdering
the instant
she rocks
herself, nam-
ing old dolls.
Labels: entanglement, language, physics, quantum, suicide
Monday, December 26, 2016
Stalking Rest
I chose an aerial view of a flanking
neighborhood, mostly because of
the Suicide’s Cottage in its little cove.
Hallmark card with a twist. Anyway,
a local legend.
Fine, except she continuously walked
into the water, white flowing nightgown,
billows.
Through my programs at times.
To purge this ghost, I changed to snow and
solid New England spires.
There, she stepped through drifts white as
her nightgown. Absurd.
No use, then, regardless of wallpaper.
Finally, though, still tried sombre abstraction.
Yet, In front of pillows of rusts and browns
she wades in and whitely breasts the first
black wave consisting of felt bolsters.
Turn off computer, go for a walk…to get there.
The cutting wind sweeps away the last remnants
of storm-smell.
Stride into the woods to discover ample brush .
To fashion a wreath.
Place it on the rise and fall of black-gray Lampey’s Cove.
Say nothing, just watch, and can’t feel my fingers.
Much noise re-entering house, since the computer has turned itself on to Western brilliance.
Dashing rivers, red rocks, and cottonwoods.
Some fluff actually blows round the den.
Square dance calls and whoops! I tap the
speaker icon to mute the horrible distortion.
Labels: computer, computer ghosts, ghost, suicide, wallpaper
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Responsible
-I told him that Dorine threatened to kill herself?
-What did he say?
-That’s her fuckin lookout!
-I really admire stupid guys.
-How so? They’re stupid!
-They’ve simplified life.
-The only model they can understand.
While...I...worry about Dorine. Can’t sleep!
As he’s out talking his drivel to other
senseless women. And she’s probably
sawing away after tears!
-Surrounded by dolls and teddy bears?
-One would suppose.
-Well, you’re not her Daddy!
-I’m everybody’s!
-Physician heal thyself!
-Burnt-out case.
Labels: empathy, line, responsibility, sex, stupidity, suicide
Saturday, December 12, 2015
Final Plan
The Same Conversation
-Okay then, you take a cruise. Two-AM, off fantail go you!
-Done!
-Swim to exhaustion, won't even know when sharks
getting to it. Little guys finishing up, thousands.
-Then?
-Eventually, bleached bones on a beach somewhere.
-Great! I'm scenic!
-Here comes the Science! I study charts, currents, decide
which beach, and the whole gang parties there!
-How could it be better? I'm enjoying it now!
-Uh...invite Dorrie? Your call there?
-Why not? Her whole life's been a fuckin gloat!
Labels: beach, cruise, currents, decay, drowning, Fatal Woman, friend, gloating, punctured affair, science, sharks, suicide
Friday, October 30, 2015
Exiting
-I just don’t want that sudden jolt of blackness.
-No one does. We’ll ease you in.
-Or out?
-Out. Yes.
-And, I can opt...?
-We’ll tape a buzzer to your right hand. Simple
enough to press the button. There’ll be time.
Like the one at the Eye Doc? “Press when
you see a tiny flash on the white background?”
-For peripheral vision. I’ll press if I decide to live instead.
-Simple enough! Your wife will be in Bermuda?
-Shopping along the harbor. Do you find that strange?
-I find nothing strange, and everything.
-She’ll be back for the service.
-At the university, yes. Your ancient colleague playing
Mozart on the flute.
-Showing will be sparse, so many dead.
-I’ll be there. We just don’t drop our people!
...a few students who like your work.
-Really? How nice!
...
Musings as he goes under.
Hearing voices etc.
His as a child.
Labels: assisted suicide, choose mode of death, death, directed death, directed suicide, Euthanasia, suicide
Monday, September 28, 2015
When
Deciding
-That choice is a real beauty: a box of fuckin guts or an urn of fuckin ashes!.
-Then why not burial at sea? Or jump in beforehand and drift to oblivion!
-Good! Let the sharks…!
-Too tough for them! Smelly too. The little nibbly guys?
-That'll take awhile.
-No hurry. Then bones drift ashore, bleach, bang together, disintegrate.
-Pretty! I mean it!
-So you don't always crack sarcastic?
-Not when I find something nice!
Labels: black, death, sarcasm, suicide, vision
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Still Moans in the Folklore
In the village we say
we thread our way
to death.
With the looms, of course,
but, too, the paths above
devouring seas. One
winter, a lovesick black-
smith fled his forge
for their silver cold.
As children we played
stern games on
the same bluff, and
two lost together. “Jeremy and
Lorna” the bobbing wreath
denotes yearly. Green in
green water. A woman falls,
but, well, we have our doubts as
her husband drinks him-
self to terminal rout thereafter.
Next year, two women, hand
in hand. A modern end.
The tourists still come for
the fabrics. And the stories.
We grow unsure. Perhaps lat-
ter from another village? We’d
encourage anyone to fasten
to them. Cloth, increasingly
not as good, passes.
Labels: bluff, cloth, death, drowning, fabric, folklore, murder, story, suicide, village
Friday, August 28, 2015
Had To Be There
The motorcyclist stops,
lifts his black visor,
smiles, triggers the bomb.
Everybody runs.
Rosa starts to, but realizes
she’s gone,
and thumps down.
Madame Hartzell, fat, rolls
a distance in the shock
wave after. One fore-
ground head and trunk
sings of its beloved.
Labels: Bomb, bomb aftermath, bomber, death, explosion, maiming, suicide
