I, too, am a monster. We
becoming don’t ask words / becoming.
Her lightning face / oh my lovely.
Who knows how much of me sleeps / sits alone in the silent?
Some buildings loiter, loiter –
and that is why I have seen suddenly everyone is a rat.
I was that race at that moment.
Skinly suited thing resembled barking blue dogs. Sure.
So out of this barren fuckscape, henceforth I predict.
A bucket with holes on purpose is full of feeling!
I will never steal the result of her own split preoccupations.
Home is other people, (not) lucky meaningless nouns.
While she forever barefoot slick with wanting.
That’s a long fucking time, little lamb.
Goodbye and goodbye bundled in shoe boxes from my poem candy.
Just think about it, “Did I set the living room on fire again, America?”
Language curated by Cara Benson from Advent calendar contributor poems Dec ‘09.
Cara Benson is a poet, educator, sound artist, and activist. Her full length book of interconnected of pre-elegiac prose-poem texts for earth plants humans animals called (made) is now out with BookThug. www.necessetics.com