Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Zoo Times

I see you
you are three hours
late
I won't see you
later
guess
I
guess
meth
hotel
fun times
we call you chef
Red head
chef
He hates you

Do you remember
how long her
hair was?
So long
she used it
to rope elephants

She is probably
dead
and a prostitute.
I miss her.
we both
came into
some money
at the
same time
and our fathers
have the
same health

Tell me about
horses in
Chula Vista.
Tell me about
the hilltop district
where do we live
now

it doesn't really matter.
I wrote a poem
and it fell asleep
in the middle
then I went to a
store and bought
an assortment

Then I went home
and put away the
assortment
and I fell asleep

I tried to write
the poem again.
I comb my hair
no fun. bummer

I try to make a hair
based soup
for the big day
they call me "Dr."

The soup fell asleep
as well.
I fed it to people
and they peed

Child one says
"a rocket!"
child two lights a
cigarette and begins
to smoke.
They both run so fast
past a bridge

Child one says
"you are an angel!"
child two begins to
smoke again,
and says
"is this the first song
you have ever heard?"

Child one says
"I have been away
so long, but am glad to be here"

I write a poem and it kills
everyone who reads it.
Bummer.

I write another poem
and it talks about how
it doesn't really like
poetry that much
But I do love animals.

The next poem says
"isn't it sad when
children die, write a
poem that pretends to mean
anything at all"

I take a break
from the poem for
about eight years.
I write only
monster poems.
wildly successful.

but i remember this poem.
I try to say, "Maggie, my god, are
you still alive? Write this poem
for me"

Tattoo only the
animal friends
on my body.
I don't want to
read poetry.
so i read recipes
and give people
heartburn

10 years go by.
I have not read
poetry.

I keep a healthy
distance from
all things, except
for the animals.

I stop all
liquids and
burn juniper trees.

I misspell all things
and capitalize and don't.
I stop cleaning things.

I have not read
anything in years now.

Now wherever I look
a small lightening bolt
is striking things.

I hit my head 56
times that year.

I try to say
things to people,
but it's useless.
I talk to the animals
and the beeping sound
never ends.

I think, "he would be
an awful boyfriend"
I am always right.

I laugh, but not really.
After 30 years I say
"I guess I never really
have laughed"
how funny.

At age 1,256
I take up a poem
again and pick
a topic like
frog weddings
or
eternity
Either way

The poem is a smelly pool
The poem is a hot hot hot
The poem does not read
The poem is not a cat pillow
The poem is not a physical lover
The poem is not in bed
The poem falls asleep
The poem is not a zoo
But it reminds me of those zoo times.

3 comments:

Lacey Hunter said...

Oh

MY

GOD!

Sometimes, I can't get over what you do with language!! I worship you a little . . . maybe more than a little.

K. Silem Mohammad said...

Yeah, you're really cooking. This is phenomenal.

But ... are you sure the poem is not a cat pillow?

Jennifer said...

Thanks Lacey!

And to Kasey:

The poem may be a cat pillow, but only if the moon is in the house of venus on the 8th of September.