Each month, write a new collection.
I'm trapped in this flesh papooseSwaddled in a finite spaceMy true self weaved together with bones and nervesI look on through these eyesIn the tower of my skin prisonAble to move freelyThough my ball and chain is always closeBut I have joy in my heartI know my sentence is lifeBut my pardon is eternalMine and so many othersWe count the days with anticipationTil the jailers are overrunAnd our souls set freeUntil we are rescued and returned to HeavenWe will walk in the spaceWhere the earth touches the sky
great. kind of creepy-joyous.
lunchtime tvAn absolutely anti-utilitarian trick:The screen comes on and it’s — you won’t believe this—Not even dark out!Not even close.Such silly shows. But wait-Now there’s netflix and on demandI can watch The Late Show during the DAY,I can watch Fassbinder while eatingA sandwich.What?I know.Crazy.My husband remembers watchingQueen For A Day when he was 4He’d eat his spaghettios and watchThe ladies get crowned and crySo much transformation and it wasn’tEven 2 pm!Now we sit and dream of impracticalitiesMasking as infomercials, and then weGet utopian: What aboutWashing machines that cleanse the ownerOf pain?Judge Judy bans assault rifles andSentences all of congress to clean up Cafeterias at a local school.Soap operas that will lead eventually intoRainbow marriages between all the actors,As we wax our floors into immortalityBuffing away death which slips away under the shineOf the screen that opens up, becomes us, becomes theWorld -- high def, infinitely replayable, xfinitized, so you can fast forwardThough the boringParts, and then read about it all online.
Sink dishesWash themselves in between timeStart again.