The cross eyed dog
A four year old male
sleeps all day
a quiet creature
only barking when someone arrives
then back to sleeping
snoring and cozy nothings
a lazy old
The furr over dresses him
overheating him and dazing him
Life is a slow stumble over to the food bowl
a few laps of the water bowl
A few heavy pants
A shake of the coat
A glance at the owner
And back to the rug
Punishment is admiration,
Don't admire.
Because of the arrogance,
the need to be humbled.
Because I speak with certainty,
when there is none.
Because I am wishy-washy,
offer no value.
Don't pretend to be stunned.
Because I am narcissistic,
self-involved, ego run,
and deserve abandonment.
Because I am secretly a greedy one
and want the world beneath my thumb.
Because people are so loyal,
yet I dream of treachery.
Because I fantasize about killing,
about being a despot.
Because I can never simply be.
I ask for more than what I've got.
I am dirty.
I am worthless.
Tell me.
I'm a sluggish man
Look at me move across the pavement
Exhaustion is the only feeling I carry within
every minute a struggle
I creep up on my curb
my joints inflammed in agony
I have not the strength to drag myself to my feet
I am shattered I am crippled
I crawl for I have no power to walk
I am waiting for that hand
For a crutch or support
How pathetic I look on the road
Laying here on the steet like lame begger
But I'm not Like a begger, I am a begger
And beggers cannot be choosers so i will recieve what they give me
I will be grateful for the sun, the smell of hot tar, the pity in the pedestrians eyes
The French clerk spoke to me in his language.
I understood the main idea just not he details.
He had perfume and jewelry on sale.
Identfying himself as an expert
The man smiled behind his smile
His form of distilled pride graceful
The original smile in his spirit wiley
reflecting through his polished face
The wooden surfaces grain oh dainty
Posture of the clerk oh so saintly
Romantic notions of tradition
His smile behind the smile
His empty knowingness
Assumptions shined and sheen
He pretended to be humble
All ostentation and vitrines
The land is flooded
We have taken to canoes
small boats and floating
What was once underneath is now concealed by water
Your home has become a boat
Yet each person is alone upon their own boat
Following not the one who navigates properly
But the one whose boat is most ostentatious
The water is dark and carries with it the dusts
None my know the depth except for the objects above water
Trees and lamposts that give evidence of roads underneath
But what use are any of those roads now
Our dominion has been reduced to small islands
The land now belongs to the fish
We lose who we are
In and out of ourselves
Force and vulnerability
What we sell has no value
What we give is close to heart
We lose our map
Life is a basket
Desires those fancy wrapper bars
Filled with chocolate or sweets
Sense of luck
The door opened
Invited we walk inside
But once inside we are lost
My hands don't want to leave the wheel
My foot the pedals
Losing myself
Life is a vase of red wine
Euphorias and hangovers
abundance and addiction
symbols so exhausting
Balance sweet balance
We lose ourselves chasing solutions
That don't change the underlying problem
So we keep walking on a path already paved
Defaced with graffiti like the words confusion
Like the words no direction
Even the trees that line the path
Branches point toward phantom destinies
Not gracefully but awkwardly
Let me just raze it all
Warm myself next to flames
build my own path next to the ashes
Mix it all into the cement
Then start paving until I reach the hill
Where my place will be built.
I am a shadow in the streetlight at night.
I sought sleep but not a wink in sight.
So I wander the streets, my teeth sensitive.
My tongue dry, movements tentative.
I leap streetlight to streetlight like a stoat.
nothing registers my approach.
I steal traveling bodies and pack them.
bundling them into my sack for dream.
I return to the invisible shelter Narkumfaru.
Counting lost ones like animals in a zoo.
testing their dreams with curiosity and care.
sewing forbidden places with their nightmares.
behind the invasive bamboo left to grow free.
I witness the old timid spirits greet me.
Distribute the lost ones back into their heads.
Back into their homes and respective beds.
A piece of them mine forever filling a cup.
to galaxies in a new universe I draw up.
To the shape and reality that pleases me.
One where I reign surreal sovereignty.
One where I get a decent night's sleep.
