Poetry I wrote you some flowers

the bee is bee bee
fly little bee
bee be bee
bee unto bee
bee bee-
ing bee
inbittle bee
beautible being
being a beating
of beeflaps
beflapping
flying belittle

be free, little bee.
 
greeeeeeeeeeeeeeeebie

hut
mango

articoop

bhutan in spring
way lenceforth
into hittermiss

up to diversion flutter
underneath wet wipes
and the smell of banana bread

the sweet smell
of the kitchen
the sweet
seed
of
I.
 
when i was in the psych ward
i played a lot of chess

mostly by myself

occasionally, the med students would join
and ask prying questions
with pity in their eyes
and terrible surprise when i answered

i couldn’t stand them.

on the last day i was there,
there was a new girl
my age
(i think i saw her at the coffee shop before)
who had been there before

and we played checkers
and between games, the nurse gave me my things
and told me to leave
but i stayed for visitor hours
because i promised to teach her how to play chess

and i stayed in that prison
so that i could enjoy her company
and i finally felt sane.
 
when it’s past your bedtime
and you’re thinking about
the worst mistakes you’ve
ever made in your life

remember why it hurts
remember what you lost
remember why it matters so much

i remember Destiny
a woman i let slip away
who still keeps me up at night
and the stupid things i didn’t say

but i remember her smile
and i remember her warmth
and i remember just how much i loved her

and my heart breaks a little
but then it melts
and the cracks disappear
 
let the rain kiss you
let it lie upon your brow
and seep into your skin
and wash away the light
to let the spirit sleep
 
I’m not the kinda guy I look like
(I know what you see
(I see him in the mirror))
and I’m not the kinda guy you want
(I know what he is
(I don’t know want him either))

I dream in satin
while I sleep in nylon
in velvet moonlight

and the drugs taste like polyester
(which the wind pierces
as though they didn’t exist)
and I’m still in paper scrubs
when I walk about
but never leave insanity

I dream in satin lingerie
spirals of gendered nonsense
which grip my mind

I’m a kind of guy
(I think so, at least
(and I’m not a woman))
I’m a kind of person
(who kinda feels
a kind of feeling)

I have satin nightmares
where everything I am
frightens me

I can’t be alone
(The law of large numbers
says it can’t be so)
I can’t be alone in
frightening mediocrity
and mundane fear

I dream in satin
which has no warmth
and no comfort
in its softness
 
there's a gorilla
a chimpanzee
and a bonobo
and when they put on their cardigan
they become human

the bonobo is a lover
of all things
she's gentle
and foolish
and unafraid

the chimpanzee is a climber
of great trees
he's fast
and clever
and deeply scared

the gorilla is a mountain
of the lowlands
he's brutish
and stubborn
and does not give a damn

the bonobo longs to dance
the chimpanzee longs to die
and the gorilla longs to sleep

the bonobo and gorilla have much in common
they love deeply
and quaff heartily
of love's waters

the bonobo and chimpanzee have much in common
they are weak
and cannot stand alone;
they hide in the trees

the gorilla and chimpanzee have little in common
they are at each other's throats
and the bonobo cannot soothe them
no matter how she sings

and in their cardigan
they pretend to be human together
 
a little girl went butterfly catching in the meadows
she started in the woods, admiring the mighty trees
and jumping headfirst into piles of leaves
which she was disappointed to find no deeper than they seemed

she counted frogs
and chased down streams to springs
and marveled at the colors of the butterflies
which turned the brown meadow into a symphony of color

she had her net, as she always did
and a jar with holes in the lid
ready and able to catch her colorful prey
so she sat perfectly still in that meadow until the perfect butterfly came in her way

in a flash, she pounced, and net hit grass before sweeping over to the jar
she bottled it up as fast as she could
and couldn’t resist the excitement
and ran home to show dad

and dad marveled at the many different insects she had caught in that jar in her haste
grasshoppers and locusts and ladybirds
but she was really just proud of the butterflies
which took her all afternoon to catch
after seeing trees
and frogs
and streams and springs
all while catching the butterflies.
 
tttttttttttttttttttrash
filthy insognificence
into the du
um
stir the can
stir until
until you find
symphonesence infognesence
ofthe trash
 
there once was a lim-limerick
whose prosidy was ill as in sick
the iambs no flow in words that go
together like jelly and dick
 
kill
maim
destroy
burn

you must
you must
beyond recognition

and until
you do
they will know

and they will
do more
unto the
farmhands
who wish

you shall

eat mothballs until
you vomit upon the carpet
with your
insignificant ego
shriveled up
 
i love you with all my heart
(but i truly cannot stand you
and i just wish you’d go away
(and let me love you how i remember you
(and not as you are
)))and i think i always will
 
I SCREAM THE LYRICS OF THE POEM THAT MY ANCESTORS WROTE
I SING THEIR HYMNS THEY TAUGHT ME DOWN TO THE NOTE
I FIND NO SOLACE SAVE FOR THE PAIN THAT WE SHARE
THAT YEARNING CALLING TO SCREAM UNTO THE AIR

I SCREAM
YOU SCREAM
WE ALL SCREAM
WE MUST SCREAM OR WE WILL ROT
 
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