Memory III

Memory III

For all time,
as the cockatoos and walruses did wage eternal war each upon the other:
that bastard Ragnorak of pets and zoo animals,
my sleepmind vapored and rose above to gaze sadly down
(and yet happily)
upon my still and benodded bodybody:
the grim toes, those crooked lips, that hairy belly.
There was a screeching and a’gnawing upon the door,
and I watched my bodyself rise to open, sighing “no”:

hungry silence and salivated words upon my doorstep
toothy words at my door
oh, and darkness too:
dark which enveloped my head in a thousand blazing caricatures of itself.

“Why is this here?” I cried.

The quiet stretched on and on and always,
as I watched my small and fragile formbody standing at the edge,
sitting coldly down, gnawing carefully—oh, so carefully!—
chewing on my bodyhand’s empty ringfingerbone:
looking down, I felt the dim pull of pain:
a quick rushing, and I sat once more between my ears.

Yet, I did not waken:
I sat clutching soiled words and empty fingers
and toothy lightning bolts were hurled ‘cross the sky:
those eyes within my head were stunned,
broken with their thick lashing.

In silence,
for there was no one there,
I scratched my ears
in silence.


I’m noticing that certain things keep coming up again and again. OK, yes, I’m sort of self-conscious about my toes, which are kind of crooked, and I usually don’t wear sandals for that reason. Also, I was having some pretty weird dreams in my early 20s. I was also really interested in how daily life could be mapped onto mythical or mythological things. I read a couple books on Norse mythology at one point, which might have been an influence here.

A cockatoo lived in our house for a while when I was a kid. One time it bit my ear so hard that it bled. It also pooped on my head more than once. So, I think I’m gonna have to come down on the walruses side in this one.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *