In a classroom eyes roll in response to comments that spill out from between yellow teeth like a puddle of spit darkening the grout didn't feel that building up under such a surface a rougher surface perhaps keep your eyes down looking at the small print so small looking down at it looks like a tiny crushed bug the one that crawled through a quickly appearing and disappearing spot of light coming from the Sun through the window high up the grey wall near the ceiling just before a fingertip broke its body into small print keep your eyes down looking at the small print looking down at it looks like a tiny crushed bug in a classroom eyes roll in response to comments that spill out from between yellow teeth like a puddle of spit darkening the grout didn't feel that building up under such a surface a rougher surface perhaps.
Leave It
(a poem stolen off a steno pad forgotten in a shopping cart brought along for the ride in a septic truck and contemptuously balled up and tossed out the window)
Leave it
Leave it now
Don't bother with that spider
Put down the rolled up newspaper
Magazine
Put down the magazine
Looked like a newspaper
Black and white
Leave it
Leave it now
Stop with the buttons
Pushing this pushing that
Don't touch the DVD player
Magazine
Turn off the movie
Things
Staying put to escape
Getting out into the drying land
Held in place
End the film
Leave it
Leave it now
Mouth wanting
Wanting mouth
Chewing into this face
Gasping every morsel
Tongue sends out
each and every twisted
expression
Leave it
leave it now
leave it
leave it
now
Towards the side
opening onto a chasm
Pulling the window glass across
shutting it in
the laughter
from the other side
the wall's sounds
is it someone hurt?
sounds so young or old
now it's in here
shut in against the glass
against the chasm
leave it
leave it now
They're going out were here only a few minutes enough time not to hear a word before they go out again and they're off this rocker rocking lulling into water for drinking our own lubrication lulling into watery eyes rolling eyes oiling the machines moving in and out of the houses when arriving they're going out were here only a few minutes enough time not to hear a word about it about the time about the one about not being about it about the time about the one about not being about the time when arriving they're going out were here only a few minutes enough time not to hear a word before they go out again and they're off this rocker rocking lulling into water for drinking our own lubrication lulling into watery eyes rolling eyes oiling the machines moving in and out of the houses.
Dear Sir,
It comes once in a month's lifetime on a daily basis with way too much obnoxious warning that the weeks have run out through a hole in your memory (not yours, mine or yours and mine or not yours and not mine) when you swore you could have seen this coming when you swore you could have sworn something fell into your coffee trying to figure out what in the fuck it was could have been a chunk from that shitty patch of ceiling you call a repair. Need to find a spoon to see what some stirring will bring to the top.
On behalf of the elk you ran into, the children you confused and the tree you cut down into our last house, a word of elaboration on the topic I do not want to discuss for it would occupy too much space here in light of the dark facts in addition to your having lost some of your weight but not your ignorance in my estimation as well as that part of my mind that was consumed sufficiently with you to fire off this little missive.
For I do not presume to trust that this projectile will find you incapacitated with stomach upset or an illness of the malignant and deteriorating kind. You may not have even read this far being of short attention span and fuse to go back to resting on your laurels of an epistemology founded on having a scrotum increasing your chances above that of flies. Alas, mine have been and will continue to be somewhere in between despite your proving what order you belong to as evidenced by your preferring to grow in cold and moist areas. Keeping my knees together while flushing you away the walls look thinner when I had expected them to thicken. What is continuing to make those gouges? And in every fucking room, you know? I have worked so hard to make myself as lonely as possible and something still continues to nibble away at it.
From L
p.s. and why must they be so slow?
It's nothing really really it's nothing drew some blood. Corner of a sandwich missing a bite mark passing through layers of cheese and ham and lettuce and being and its being tired that seems to fill the room with slow ticking and itching drew some blood on the canvas of an arm did the skin have to apparently apparently it did holding out a hand with fingers with fingernails did the skin have to apparently apparently it did holding out a hand with fingers with fingernails there was no space to fill the room no space at hand so much for holding out in a room filled with stupidity patterns in interior design.
"Did you get that?"
"I think so."
"So I'm not completely crazy."
"Then again I'm getting along in years and the old bowling ball of neural jell-o is not like it used to be."
"So I am completely crazy."
"Uh, yes. In a nutshell and that's what is currently producing my gibberish."
"I want to know what is producing that noise."
"Sounds like people talking."
"Is this going to be another one of your lead-ins to bitching about the stark chambers discourse has been exiled to?"
"Maybe they're wearing bearded beanies and that would account for the muffling?"
"Are you suggesting it might be a hostage situation?"
"I just posited a novelty item. How does it go from something novel to the taking of hostages?"
"Maybe you're right. You should listen to yourself."
"Listen to myself? How can I when I have all this debris of conversations affecting the performance of my sense organs? Can't get past the parties and the games. They were decorated with laughter the laughter I only noticed when I looked up and saw their faces and then I understood the laughter and how I had the rules all wrong. It was what they said about me and what I couldn't do that was the way it was going to happen and it did. Now the encouraging words and what was possible and supposed to be freed up inside me and used to help others and change things that ended up never being how things were played. The aim of their abuse was always so accurate. It was the hope that turned out so off target and misleading."
"You should take action and coordinate a rescue operation and play down the performance and sense organs portion."
"I'm not coordinating anything. You coordinate something. The only operation I'll be attending is to take care of a fistula I've been plagued with."
"Brap!"
"Goodness, what was that?"
"I know it wasn't very ladylike, but I did have a soda with my spicy wings."
"That was loud. Chipped my skull."
"Good. I needed a diversion from the details of your operation."
"I need a diversion from the details of my operation."
"Are you going to get the hostages out of there or what?"
"Of course not. Even if there were hostages in there, I would rather that they each individually learn to practice waiting for natural organic stabilization."
"What?"
"I can go right there. I can see and feel myself in the bathroom with the window open leaning against the towel rack and hear the breeze watch the fence gently sway until that flipping dog starts yapping."
"Comes across as a long-winded way of saying get over it. I can go right there, too. You and your sense organs. And your performance. His performance. Nodding off with my chin against a pillow against a shoulder asked to move because I was cutting into his skin. About to nod off again and my cell chimes my brother's chimes had to answer it. Sister is dead car accident a red light runner so much for the afterglow of my orgasm. It's gone. Just like that. All there was was the stretched and warped design on the blanket and I collapse on the bed and roll over and pass through this shaft of light that keeps appearing and disappearing. And then that's when it started when it ended. Somewhere else outside that room something took place something went down and the room wasn't empty like I used to think it was. It was full of so much shit that there was no longer any room for anything to change. It started then when it ended. It was gone. Just like that."
- Max Stoltenberg
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