where is springtime?

I don't revisit s**t.

Not old poems or the porches of old girlfriends.

I did manage to get the hood of the car open,

seems a cat had nested on the engine between

darting around the yard of sparrows and being

the witness to my indignity.

This language

un-wills us to indocility. Imbued with sectarian opinions

and silly points of view.

A woman jostles me in Walmart,

asks  me why am I in the makeup isle.

"I'm Lost", I exclaim. I can see

she doesn't understand, so in her

"Go-Blue" intractable jacket

she struts off not to be seen again.

"You just better watch yourself, old woman.

I carry around with me this whole ecosystem

of coppery hurt",

and it pains when someone strange thinks

your not the person they thought they would see

that day.

Like that moment in the dentist chair

when the hygienist with red streaked hair

told me to close my mouth around the

suction, and like some invertebrate

I let the unbecoming, disgracefulness

empty itself into the netherworld of willingness.

Like the lion that chews away

on the face of the zebra he

couldn't catch.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

ah but the speaker does "revisit s**t" just doesn't want to admit it...but lost in thought in the make up aisle...mmmmm....revisiting? pondering what happened, and where she went and why he is now alone?

and why he doesn't act like himself anymore...the half chewed relationship in his mouth.

[The Twin Arenas]

made me swallow at nothing like a suction.
thanks, man. you're a glass of water.

[writing mojo]

i savored this one from phonic thought pronounced salivary
with the awe in the words jaws of life..
so much is exposed with that unhooked j hinge...excellent

[W.k.kortas]

"I don't revisit s**t" is a curious way to begin a ditty which invokes the spring, to trample a phrase. I suppose you could read this as an anti-spring poem: instead of the bliss of human warmth, we have a cat subsisting on mechanical warmth, and the tranquiltiy we seek in the season's warmth and susnhine buts up against "un-wills us to indocility" and even the notion of what a man's fancy turns to is turned on its head, and damned humorously so, in the visit to the makeup aisles at Wal-Mart. The final nine lines of the piece are simply brilliant--"the one who got away" being the zebra face for the lion which drew the short stick, as it were. This piece gives us a whole damn zebra to chew on.

[Cory Barrett]

Somtimes we just give in, and some give into is.