FIRST TELEVISION PICTURE FROM SPACE
This will always
be imperfect
because at least
half of you
are starving but
I wish we
each could see
one billion colors
times one billion
galaxy clusters
that we can all
recognize
together
in order to assign
a new messiah
'cuz this one's
not workin' for ya
you know
I grew up an eve
angel formed
adjective
that's when
imagination
dwindles
and rehearsal
can become
violent
if you're lucky
you grow up
thanks but no
you can only
be so incapable
of recognizing
your tininess
for so long
you can only be
so sorry
for your well-meaning
intentions
like not questioning
the problem
if art
is about solving
a problem
my problem
is how
do you be
warm hearted
and also cold blooded
at the same time
how far out
in any direction
must you whip dust
so when finally
you turn around
to wave goodbye
you won't
actually
be able
to see
love is fleeting
or love
is forever
and somewhere
in between
this planet
is being seen
for the first time
the problem
with depiction
articulating
space
and time
yet to exist
and the academy
award recovery
I'm waiting so
impatiently
at the limit of
you can have
any flower you want
but please
cordially
at least for now
tell me what I am
supposed to do
to make everything
okay again
who are you
anyway
can you cluster
the reasons
I should trust
the reality
being presented here
the purple
coneflower
boasts a striking bloom
but is uncommon
in the wild
though good
at escaping
cultivation
maybe
that's why
I'm attracting
butterflies too
move over
emotions
flowing down
all sides of this
Montana mountain
I didn't realize
I was climbing
I love
how all species
dance
but we humans
are the ones
who argue about it
make the rehearsal
a violence
lately someone
reminded me
there are
no more poetics
just desires
painting
all the current
intentions of desire
do not
get caught
up
in the disorienting
lure of mass
emotion but I do
love the dust
into the eyes
and mouths
colors
and I'm all
for a very subtle
well tailored
how liberated are you
as a human
being in a constant
simulation
of humanity
leaving
the worst parts
of crying
out of happiness
behind
so I can ask
how would you
describe me
in the dream
literally
knocking on your skull
saying
here is a free idea
while obviously
you are waiting
for aspiration
unable to recognize
what is spreading
across the floor
like a mild coma
starry images
ink on paper
paint on cardboard
ink on flesh
blood on water
blood in saliva
I'm a visual artist
but I'm too afraid
to show anyone
you want
to take in
all the love
'cuz you don't know when
you'll get it again
lyric after lyric
after thirty years
you'd think
you would have explored
all the nooks
and crannies
but life of course
is only nooks
and only crannies
so what
is the color
of asking
what is the color
of letting
your stress
talk for you
and this room
is one big
eye vibration
because you're a poet
to you everything
is a painting
I'm a muralist
sketching out the current
inventions
of desire
slipping profoundly
into reaction
this makes you
feel uncomfortable
so tell you what
just slap it
bash reaction
with a sledgehammer
rake desire open
and sculpt a pedestal
for reaction to stand
and draw attention
then smash it
so briefly reaction
floats and descends
in slow motion
while you pretend dive
to reaction rescue
awake or not
how do you demand
an audience
hang
on your every
word
this softly
singing language
you've never heard
is so tempting
get it all down
so fluid and wonderful
what exactly
are you
thinking about
the virtue
of the artist
scratching a living
out of people
scratching
for a living
and by galaxy
I mean a realm
of unknowns
of inflammation
of not yet defined
or seeming
to be performed
blurring
the evident world
into the dream
of flying freely
out into space
listen to this
my heart is missing
music
I had such a vivid
such a vivid
nightmare
there was a nuclear
attack
missiles flying
right overhead
as everyone raced
to the hotel basement
hiding in a rack of coats
we waited for the end
for the end
and waited
it was so loud
apparently
there was a plane
with lasers
shooting all the missiles
shooting them down
like poets
so so loud
I told my ex
holding my hand
so tightly
this is crazy
absolutely
do I want you
right now
you were holding me
so tightly
okay I said
turning my gaze
back
to the audience
which ex
I mean
you've had a lot
of exes
honestly
I can barely remember
who you are
but I'm sure
I'm the one
who tore out
your heart
after you
tore out mine
if art is about
solving problems
my problem
is how do you
set the table
you're waiting
for an invitation
to be seated at
and why
aren't you inviting
everyone
you love
that's the rub
of anxiety
no matter
how many
people
are in your corner
there are
and can never be
enough people
in your corner
because there is
no corner
just the never
ending abyss
that is your feeling
unworthy
for the also unlimited
limitations
of stardom
like why would you
want to know
why isn't
the camera lens
pointing at you
rather shouldn't you
be asking
what galaxy
do I want
to go to
and whose hands
will I be holding
when we discover
new life
together
TYPO
34
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