why would i ever share me — with you?
i know what you say about people like me
why would i ever let you close — to me?
i know what you do —
why would i ever call you — family?
i know —
-
i know you
-
when i became a christian
when i became a christian
i was born
and the world shown in lumination
all the love i had for itand when i was born
i was whole
and all my parts fit together
and did not enjam at all the worldand when i was whole
i was told, i was not
and i believed themand when i believed them
my parts ajar’d, just like they said, and got lost
the world got grim and dull
and the womb of love i always felt i was in
enclosed
without me in itwhen i became a christian
all the christians said, loud and for a long while, i was not and am not and will not be whatever it is i think god says i am to be -
wide screen crucifixion
it was jesus and the rest of em
tooth-eyed for the cinema
gory jesus pulling his punches
along the jaw of the capital
we don’t care who the hero is
we just need to believe there even is one
and don’t get us started on the enemies
if it’s one, then it’s all of us,
i won’t take the heat for what we all doneit’s jesus at the cinema
as gory as before
and christians watch it annually
because they can’t just get enoughall the services mock the mockers
and every one of them
is no different -
What Did Not Oxygenate
when i was born the umbilical chord was wrapped around my neck three times
the doctor did a spini always wonder what did not oxygenate
in me, while it was happening
and if that is the reason
i am the way i amor maybe it was the car accident
both our cabins rolled up with my plans
i was thrilled that we all survived
but made it was thenor maybe it the loss of my friend
or the time he smiled, toward the end, and i saw how few teeth he had left
or maybe it was the coffee we had
so raunch i had to spit it out – maybe he poisoned itor maybe every time it is cloudy but doesn’t rain
my skin reacts and mutates my brainmaybe i am the way i am
because of my toes against the corner of the bed so many goddamn times
i think there are a lot of nerve endings in the toeswhatever the reason
i don’t know why it matters so much to youhere i am
after all
here i am -
what assuming does
“you know what assuming does…”
but people do not like when I don’t assume
I must assume what they mean with every word they say
I must assume what they will think when I say what I say
“you know what making the wrong assumption does…” should be the phrasewhen you speak a clock begins
I only have that barely window
to speak again
in kind
so I have to guess
I have to guess what need was motivating what you said
I have to guess why you said it the way you did
I have to guess, based on that, what I should say
and become aware of what is going on in me
I have to guess how what I will say will move both you and I in different ways
and when I find a thing that is right to me but, I have to assume, will stir a pain in you
I have to start it all again, but I’m still on the clock
the window narrows before you wonder why I won’t respond
before you wonder what is wrong
before no one’s brain almost ever thinks “oh it’s okay, he’s just different than me” — brains seem to insist
something must be wrong with me
and the shutters of the window close
so I have to, now, squeeze my responding words through those
and when I have tried and tried for this long while
to respond in kind
so often, but not so often that anyone seems to really keep it in mind, but still quite often enough
I get the calculous tremendously wrong
and they say
“don’t you know what assuming does…?”
but I do
I do know
but you don’t -
God’s Likeness
Christ was a child
we know for sureI hope he was the riley one
made to rule when all they begged him
was to listenI hope his cries shined and shined
mocking every plan his parents hadI hope when they knew
they looked back
and knewhe was just like James, and John
and all the boys they knew
but now, they knew, which parts were God in them
and which parts
were God’s parts too -
An Untitled Poem About Time, Fingers, Praying Fists, Finger Traps, Stencil Prints, Fatty Roads, Craggy Molds, Winter Weather, and Palms Sharing Sweat
time is fingers between fingers
locked in a praying fist
one hand is the present moment
the other is experienceconsciousness is a finger trap
between all the fingers all at once
so that what should always have been separate
we know, for us, never ismemory is a stencil print
on three pounds of fatty roads
we can always run the traffic back
through resulting craggy moldsbut we are winter and harsh weather
in our fight to have it back
and — have what back? after all,
walking the fatty paths
was never ‘what we had’what we had was always fingers between fingers
wishing to be separate
it was palms sharing sweat and us unable to tell the difference
between the present moment
and our experience of it -
spirit of eternity
the spirit of eternity is milky
it is from the breast when we are children
and then we give it upit is a heavy cream
we circle into coffee
and then forgetoh spirit of eternity, we pray
come to us
unfold our notion of ‘a day’oh spirit of eternity, we plea
remember us
as we await to enter theefor your face is long as a sheet
and cold as a galaxy
your words are the sky in the evening
and the earth when we sleepspirit of eternity
you are what we all hope to be:
the stillness
that brought us into being
and the push
that our mothers startwe won’t be finished in our graves
and we have you, we will always have you,
to thank -
(affirmations)
i am no more
but also no less
i can take a back seat
and i can drive myselfa retreat is not a retreat
when the fortress is in mei can love who i am
when i am shy, when i am different
when i know i don’t fit in
when i cannot do what you tell me tono one must to make space for me
because i can -
300 dollar bet on birds
stupid birds
i can’t wait for you to dieGOD compared me to you
and some flowers, i think daffodils
i can’t wait for your nest to loose
and wind to break your branch
i can’t wait for you to diethey use you as the reason
i am not allowed to think i suffer
the reason i am not allowed to worry
i can’t wait for you to diestupid birds
i heard some mothers eat their young
maybe that is what GOD meantPS: three hundred dollars says i’m right
nathanael.ink 