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There is a pain in my window seat. Humiliation dances through the nose ring of a bear. All the rings are chained together. Do the money chain dance. And then men act like hungry monkeys watching bananas and fancy fruit go by on a string. We are all in the cage throwing coins down hill. Hey, man do a wheelie for me – through fire with your butt cheeks glued down and your hands tied to bare metal handle bars so I see the heat come screaming through your eyes a I watch from my window, throw money at your pain. Confetti pours in the street and the bear cannot breathe, can’t smell fear nor honey, stands next to the chained elephant with the naked girl on his back. Can you see their glass eyes? Aren’t they pretty? They can dance, do tricks. There are the ponies tied to the spinning pole. Their heads held high by halters all day. The chain is too tall for short legs Nose up!! $1 pony ride and no one’s in line. Rusty lunch boxes left out in the rain. Everyone traded a ticket worth $10 for a movie.
There is a man in the distance who curls close
in smokey rooms of lustful trust, in rhythms
that dance in the long hauls of laying down bricks
and feathers for us to rest on the mountain crest,
next to the stars he hand-picked for me come
the day he’ll unfold before me in all his glory.
“I love you,” she said to the man who sits
with the moon watches her breathe her dreams,
her wishes, her breakdowns crash the air
like waves on rocks. Desert air dries her tears,
leaves her blowing kisses to the dark knight.
“Kiss me,” he says in the midnight moon beam.
There will be more come the day of the sun.
She lets down hair to climb the blue stairs
each hand on a star, true love never far.
Pershas Typo © 2013
There are doors in the dark, knock and you will be heard by what’s inside.
Trust when water flows over the brim, love will be there in your drowning.
With cupped hands of flowers, offer them to the beast in the storm.
In the silence of being alone, breathe in its infinite reach to hear bells in the forest.
Questions arise from the simmering boil, jumps like a sparkling frog out of the water, lands in the snake’s mouth. The eagle flies above the spider’s web eyes the snake slithering under the leaves. Little birds chatter like city lights and the wood pecker is the only sound knocking.
Holy monster at my door dressed in sin
Two left feet rock and teeter shapeless grin
Faraway howls at the moon blow in the wind
I see him stare with pregnant wife to let him in.
Says there is no room at the Inn, no star to follow
Could he please sleep in the hay filling the hollow
coffin out in my yard. I say cool. Keep the calls low
Looking down at the bumps in her belly giving full blows,
I shut the door to prepare a Halloween baby broth made
special with fresh sprigs of oregano and pumpkin lemonade.
I am locked in a little cedar box*
trips me on the floor, opens trap door.
Fall in, head first. Dark well fills my thirst.
Don’t tell, lips wrapped around the knot.
The end of the song rings my hot ears
hanging off the side, draining my pride.
Dangling in cedar woods in sight of a lion pride.
Giant paws pawing at what’s inside the square box.
Did they hear my learned lessons with pricked ears
Pointed hats kick down three-mirrored doors
stretching their hands to untwist what is knotted
in chains, behind bars meant to quench a thirst.
These leagues of lessons pour down my thirsty
throat taste sweet over time ripened by pride.
I pull the chains just right to undo the knotted
necklaces, let them swirl neatly in the jewelry box
of cedar alongside the cufflinks and diamond ear-
rings. I see myself a ballerina by the door.
Step out of the heavy lid, hear music like door
chimes, let go of rotten hurts. Like magic by Howard Thurst-
on I float on air with Amelia Ear
heart in the cockpit saying swallow the pride
we’re in for a heavenly landing, don’t look for the boxed
lines on the ground. They are not
there, wiped clean by the forget-me-nots
covering the lions lying in the morning dew or
the tall grass blades swishing the boxes
of rain drenching our thirsty
empty tongues devoid of lying pride.
She says angels fly with pierced ears,
fill holes in our hearts, in our ears
with gold studs. Flocked gowns knotted
and wrapped around peaceful pride.
Don’t be afraid of light from under the door.
There’s more self-worth than endless thirst
from being locked in a little cedar box.
I stood on the door step. Rang the pride bell.
Left the unknotted threads in the lock box.
Let my ears bleed what my heart thirsted for – Peace.
*Sestina created from first line of “Satan Says” by Sharon Olds.
I love you like the moon rising when the sun has sung its day.
I love you like the puppy dancing with a leaf in a windy way.
I love you like the pigeon coos holding court in a parking lot.
If it weren’t for you I’d forget to see the forget-me-nots
alongside the road where it crosses with a crunching sound.
There’s mystery in knowing where my love is lost and found.
Can you hear me now soaring above the ocean
waves of my brainstorms washing away the good-byes
through your head swirling looking at me in the sky
singing songs, piercing your heart. Little daggers
land upon your tongue and you hear my silence
in the breezes, in the wet flowers at dawn,
a baby’s first breath unnoticed in white blankets.
Can you hear me now underneath all the noise,
whispering, pleading for you to come to me.
Play with me in the light, dance in the wake
of death’s funeral on top of hot stoves steaming
with dishes of bread pudding swollen in the middle
from the pushing of carts and the brakes in line
with each other, front to back, red and green sparkling.
Can you hear me now with your eyes wide open when
the dragons come swooping down skimming the waves.
Your voice saying, Take me, take me with you.
The talons grab you by the throat, surrender you breathless,
voiceless, drop you motionless on the sandy banks.
Only then with the first light will you hear me call your name.
© Pershas Typo