The Swan

yeah . . . yep


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
The Swan
I peed my bed till I was eight
I sucked my thumb till I was ten
I say the birds will sing with morning
I say the swan who glides the stream
is more bright than a galaxy
And you believe in me
the seed explodes when it’s ready I say
your lips receive the seed
I tell you a secret:
I fold my wings around my wound
It’s how I move around my waking time
I want to breathe, not machine, beast, the me
with beak and teeth, a freak, serene,
Sundays are soiled, sweaty, I wake
I strip the bed and wash my sheets
I stalk my desire, quiet, I stalk
I set the clock ahead fifteen minutes,
I plot against the clock in favor of a better time
let us be too late to go to church, at times it works
I want to be a feral thing
I want fur, I want to smash the clock
and throw my watch in the stream
watch the dark thing sink
watch the swan glide past
more bright than a galaxy
Too deep in dream, in drink I say
Kafka stares at bricks and walls,
the ticks and tocks of gloom I count
my work is not the me I want
dark is the countdown to toothbrush
and shave, the daily smile of I the slave
I say the birds will sing with morning
At night you say I believe
I love the you, you want to be
I love the you who peed the bed
I love the you who sucked the thumb
the swan who glides the stream
the song, the birds, the bright



But morning comes, twisted grey-blue wound!
And I’m wrong, the birds ain’t singin’ shit
You say it can‘t stay this way,
you say I must change, you write a list of 13 things
I write a poem on the spot
Called 13 ways of looking at a critic
How your one eye droops sadly on the branch!
Your brain exposed in the dirt
and the ants are coming to munch
I must change? Hmm?
I can’t I say, the swan can’t glide
more bright than a galaxy
with anchors of can’t chained to its feet
I can’t otherwise strive, you can’t accept
the can’t in me,
You!
Find!
Other swan,
Other stream