Thursday, September 15, 2016

The Futile Caterwauling of the Sloth

The girl and her dog went out looking for water. Their walking made very little noise and from their footprints arose subtle wafts that said: ‘thirst, thirst.’

A kindly sloth came ambling through the forest, smelled the thirsty footsteps, and caterwauled directions to the nearest clearwater stream.  “Right at the largest blackberry bush! Left at the tree that looks like a broken leg!” Other sloths could have understood him, but to the girl and her dog it came out: “Raawrr aorhgh aorhgh.”

The girl and her dog were happy folk, and had a natural interest in things. If they came across a butterfly or a snake’s eggs, they would pause and observe with enchantment. This pausing hadn’t been a problem before, but soon they began to notice that whenever they felt enchantment, their thirst intensified.

This became most evident when they encountered an oddly glossy mushroom, shaped like an ear. They bent down to examine its minute hairs and beautiful gloss. But oh! This made the thirst unbearable. They turned away from the mushroom and their thirst subsided. The dog whined.

Life went on like this--that is to say, miserably. They did not die because they sometimes found water. But it was always in insufficient amounts: quantities that would have barely taken the edge off the thirst of a hummingbird.

Over time, to survive, their eyes became dim to the world. Rarely, only rarely, their vision was snatched by a shimmering caterpillar or the majesty of the stars. But whenever this happened, their shared tongue would swell and dry up like a salted slug. 

Yes, they shared a tongue, but it’s of no importance really.

The only importance is that of lost hope, and of the futile caterwauling of the sloth.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

The Deep-Dwelling Bony-Eared Assfish

Who’s the best of all creatures that live in the sea?
The dolphin is, according to me
But my boyfriend insists with obstinate glee
It’s the deep-dwelling bony-eared assfish.
The bony-eared assfish is no beauty queen
It looks like a slug dipped in gray Vaseline
If you ate it, you’d barf (or at least turn dark green)
It's a deep-dwelling bony-eared assfish.
And that’s not its only unfortunate trait
Its brain is the smallest of all vertebrates
I doubt that it's ever been asked on a date
It's a deep-dwelling bony-eared assfish.
And it’s technically ‘eel’, it isn’t a fish
And it'd fit inside of a petri dish
It's also incredibly easy to squish
It's a deep-dwelling bony-eared assfish.
And it can swim fast, but it’d rather not
If it didn’t live deep, it’d be easily caught
Did I mention it looks like it’s covered in snot?
It's a deep-dwelling bony-eared assfish.
I’d vote for the dolphin any day
And I suspect my boyfriend feels the same way
But 'dolphin' isn’t as fun to say
As: “Deep-dwelling bony-eared assfish.”

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

What Are the Chances Your Mind's Made of Branches

What are the chances your mind’s made of branches?
You brainstem’s a trunk that is wooden and tall
Your consciousness swings through the treetops, not stopping
To wonder just why there are branches at all
At one bifurcation are thoughts of vacation
The next mental split contains thoughts of your mum
Nostalgia for grade school has sprouted nearby
On the end of a branch, in the form of a plum
In one of the branches an owl is resting
He watches your mind with a skeptical frown
When your consciousness gets too rambunctious
He ruffles his feathers and hoots: “Mind yourself! Settle down!”
Some branches are missing—they’re things you’ve forgotten
Don’t sweat; it’s just pruning, it’s good for the tree
Some of the branches are knobby and crooked
They also have knowledge, so just let them be.
If you doubt that your mind’s made of branches
Just look at a neuron up close—see its willowy arms?
You can’t see the settle-down owl in the neurons
But invisibility’s part of its charm
So if you get depressed or you’re having a rough one
Imagine the tree that’s inside of your head
It’s a beautiful fractal with spindly dactyls
And will be forever. (At least ‘til you’re dead.)

Thursday, July 14, 2016

The Merry-Go-Found

Your keys aren’t lost, you’re keys aren’t gone
You didn’t leave them on the ground
They simply floated to the merry-go-found
To the merry-go-found in the sky
The match to your sock ain’t gone astray
It ain’t grown legs and walked away
It just floated off to the merry-go-found
The merry-go-found in the sky
Your headphones, glasses, and library card
Weren’t left at the store or dropped in the yard
They’ve just floated off to the merry-go-found
The merry-go-found in the sky
And Grandpa’s watch chain made of gold
You got when you were five years old
It wasn’t stolen, lost or sold
It just floated off to the merry-go-found
The merry-go-found in the sky
And the Hoisin sauce you’re sure you bought
And thought maybe you left in the parking lot
Has just floated off to the merry-go-found
The merry-go-found in the sky
And you’re wondering now: Well, what is the cost
To get there? To fetch all the things that I’ve lost?
But you should know, should know quite clear
That you have to be lost to someone dear
In order to float to the merry-go-found
The merry-go-found in the sky
So make your choice and pick your poison:
Stay close to the loved ones you’ve already chosen?
Or reunite with your headphones, your keys and the Hoisin
At the merry-go-found in the sky?
Look, I won’t blame you either way
I won’t tell you to go, won’t tell you to stay
For a price, I will even be willing to lie
And say to your loved ones: “So sorry, he died.”
To spare them from knowing you went to the sky
To retrieve all those items of yours
And if you go, you can’t come back
But please throw down my hackey sack
I lost it just a li’l while back
But I don’t mean ‘lost’, I just mean that
It’s hitchin’ a ride on the merry-go-found
The merry-go-found in the sky.


Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Reading a Book


I was reading a book in an unexpected place. Twenty men gathered around me to watch me read. I started to read aloud but they complained, said: No, no, read silently. I switched back to reading silently and watched them watch my eyes. Then it hit me: How was I reading while also watching the men watch my eyes? I realized then I had two sets of eyes and got dizzy. I toppled over and when I came to I was cradled in one of the men's arms; another was gently feeding me water. I spat it out, yelled: Away, you fools! Aren't there any women around here? But that was the year all women were exiled to the sky, and I could see them reaching helplessly towards me, chained to their clouds.

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

When Your Kid Doesn’t Get It

I spent way too long writing poetry yesterday
Boy you should have seen the way I was doing it!
Hanging upside-down from the ceiling like a bat
Writing in purple ink on a yellow memo-pad
Sending the pages sailing down to the carpet
Thousands of them!
My son came home from school, waded in, and got paper cuts all over his legs
"Mommy," he whined, "why do you always have to hang like a bat!"

My Final Act

I was so tired when I got home
I just plopped down on the couch and melted
‘You’re gonna need a Wet-Vac to clean my remains!’ I texted my roommate
He came home with an anteater instead
"I can’t clean you as goo!" he said. "Turn into ants!"
Not one to be antagonistic
I turned into ants.