The Other Body

Hands on the ceilingYou crawl. Legs bent and broken,Up against the wall. Head twisting,Mouth spitting, I wish I couldn’t see youAt all. What are you,But a part of me? A part of meOnly I’m capableTo see. I sing of your existenceCreate artWith resistanceI spread yourBane with assistanceName with insistenceNewly convinced,That I’m a simple mindedFool,Obsessed withAttention.

Heritage

Blank slate. Empty page,Open road,pavement crumbles with eachroll of my tires, each step of my feet. My mother ceased to existwhen I left home, I forgot myself,left somewherein the grocery aisles ofmy childhood. What happens whenI tryto go back? Can I put the road back together again,with melted shoesand beeswax? Can I sniff out the