Two Sharks

 

I have two sharks inside me

swimming in tandem and holding my heart

between them like a little family 

walking in the dark.

I send them gulps of air from outside

as if I were some sort of oxygenated charity

with a face and feet, operating in the world

on their behalf like a proxy or prosthetic.

Oh fishies, confined and angry in the bowl of my ribs,

here come those old blues again.

Why does life go on so long, demand so much,

slowly dribbling out the cracked glass of years?

I have had ideas all along, fine ideas

to open a ministry in a dumpster,

a ballroom in an attic, a cemetery 

on a space station with the whole Earth for Ouija board.

I'm scared, fishies. Will the moon call you

and will you answer her tidal madrigal?

Will she require three voices, you and my heart?

Will you rise in glory, leaving me hollow, in salt and sorrow?

_________________

for Word Garden Word List--How To Sell a Haunted House

Ballad of the Lost Shark

 A song for the lost shark

at the bottom of the sea

A song for the notions

that line up perfectly

A song for the children

who once were you and me

A song for the west wind

and the nest high in a tree

Sing, sing, sing, for no reason

just because you can

A song for the lost car

rusting in a field

A song for the card sharp

who says shut up and deal

A song for the baby

who was born and then grew old

A song for the kind ones

who give their hand to hold

Sing, sing, sing for no reason

just because you can

for the shark down in the deep sea

and you there on the sand.

Yarn Ball

 

The devout go to graveyards, too.

numbered from the day we are born;

winter-bearers disguised in gentian blue.

Every cat knows the yarn ball has its end.

stitched into a world of glorious patterns

comprised of flesh, genomes, accident, atoms.

I am the baby playing in the April clover

riding inside the disappearing bone-brittle

biddy, herself a rider who with Charon must settle.

In between I live my dream within a dream

within a buzzing hive of urgent ephemeral illusion,

a corporeal toy. an aspect of God, in a barrel on a waterfall stream.

___________________

for Word Garden Word List--A.E.Stallings

Shark Adventure

 

Some sharks move to suburbia.

They are mutant land sharks, able to breath and speak in their

strange, halting pidgin. 

Their spawn, er, kids sign up for Little League

and eat burgers at picnic tables after the games--

A lot of burgers.

Okay all the burgers.

At little Maria's birthday party, there is a pinata. 

One of the shark kids bursts up from the lawn,

opens its gaping maw,

and consumes it whole, along with much of a maple tree. 

Version 1) Maria runs inside, crying.

Version 2) Maria starts writing "Mrs, Maria Shark" over and over

in her school notebook.

Some customs elude the sharks.

Someone brings over a bundt cake as a welcome gesture.

Mrs. Shark tries for an air kiss on the cheek but sends the woman to the hospital. 

It is awkward for everyone and permanent for the neighbor.

The sharks notice that PTA mothers' and golfing dads' smiles

have turned to scowls. 

Country Club sponsorships dry up. 

The sharks make a holiday visit to the community pool and everyone runs away screaming. 

The sharks start wearing disguises in the grocery store and at the bank.

"I am a harmless minnow," says one shark

from a few rows of dagger-like teeth.

During a visit to a local gallery, all the sharks wear berets

and funny eyeglass masks.

No one is fooled.

Realizing that things have gone too far for remedy,

the sharks shrug, as sharks will, 

and solve everything by eating the school principal, 

the HOA president, and the local chief of police, 

all in a single afternoon.

They pack up all their stuff and return to the sea

where people are not so judgy and unforgiving.

They playfully sink a fishing boat and eat all the occupants, fish, tackle, and the mast. 

They are home. Their stomachs are full. All is well.

Brody and Hooper may kiss their fantastic finned butts.

________

for Word Garden Word List--Shakespeare Bats Cleanup 

Music: Baby Shark (You're welcome!)

Why I Stopped Reading Robert Frost

As I reach the bottom
of the bag
of some shit I used to like,
I realize
I'm bored,
and don't want it anymore.

It's like
when I was mad for what's-her-name
or
mad to be what's-her-name
and the tide 
was mad to go
first to
then fro.
What a waste of time.

So here
are my
seventy-five million poems
that lifted,
shifted,
expressed the flesh around these bones.
But today
I may
get up and walk right through the wall
and the me I leave behind
is just a stupid staring doll.

At the bottom
of this bag
is some shit I used to like.
Can you dig
can you see
the fish there riding on its bike?
in a lather
in a circle
with miles to go before it sleeps?
_________

for Sunday Muse # 105.

art by Samy Charnine.

Cat In Communication With Distant Planets

Cat in communication with distant planets 
thinks you would be more interesting if you were
a fish
or a cardboard box.

Distant planets communicate that personal transformation is possible.
Fins or corrugation become you.
Get cracking. 
__________

timely feline advice courtesy of Sunday Muse #85.

Bonus advice: don't settle. Become a fish IN a cardboard box. Your cat will thank you.