And I do not know the history
of the American domesticated housepoem,
nor do I know the story
of the American historical wildpoem,
but I can guess.
I do not know, but I do know
that when a cold heartedly
warm hearted person meets
a warm heartedly cold hearted
person, it is love
at first bite.
When it is being other,
I touch it with a stick.
When otherness is jiggling near,
and almost menacing, I touch it
with a stick.
When otherness slides up
the stick, Steve McQueen Blob
Racecar heart
of deomestic wildpeom
I touch it
with a stick.
And the stick is from
a Ceanothus tree.
A small tree
like me
once wild
now free
in domesticity
living in the
otherness
of the housepoem,
in the American
historical wildhouse.
Here comes a bum to take my bottles.
Here comes an American wild domestic bumpoem
to take my historical domesticated housebottles,
now free.
Free of me.
I lay
like Rip Van Winkle
in the eye of the twinkle,
I just lay there
and grow.
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i like that poem a lot
ReplyDeletemalonenet