DESIRE, mercury mouth part eight

solipsistic kittens 

eat french fries

for dinner

i eat chocolate

for breakfast,

it’s true

unabashedly,

i do.

i am not angry

with angels,

nor furious

with devils,

only wanting

some reunion

of the various

shades of being.

who hurt who first,

and who didn’t do

what the other one

wanted and who 

is reeling beyond 

measure?

it is a treasure

to reckon with

what was never

tended to before,

and yet there are

a dozen reasons 

to go running in 

the other direction.

i want protection,

and i also want 

a freedom so vast

i can see it for miles,

and that which i can’t

i can trust in my 

bones to their

depths and beyond.

it is not too much 

to ask.

the task is:

eat what you 

need to and save 

the rest or donate

it or make pies 

and salads and 

give them to those

in need or your 

neighbors too 

busy to cook 

or your mother 

who bore you

or your friends

with newborn

babies or your

ancestors visiting

in your sleep

and taking tastes

while you lay 

dreaming.

no one is screaming

but our voices are

furious and loud

without sounding,

NO! i will not 

stand for this,

i want noise!

boys, boys,

move out of

the way, there’s

a new toy in town,

and she wears the crown.

bow down.

or at least do

as she says 

and take a 

deep breath,

come on, it’s

good for you.

i am not fishing

only wishing we

had enough flesh

to feed millions 

oh wait we do

and grains and fruit

there is a problem

with distribution

there is a problem

with greed

there is a problem

with waste, indeed.

take heed.

what we need

is a steed so

powerful it can

cross continents

invisible delivery

like santa claus

on his best days,

who has seen him

outside of the mall?

i want it all.

angel kisses

and twinkles 

of fire between 

my toes

rain and snow

mist, mist,

and a thousand

days the shade 

of gray known

only to the belly

of the softest

turtledove nesting

over a brood of eggs

warm and ready

to be born.

do not scorn 

me for learning

other ways

yours were 

not for me

and so i shed

them like a snake

in heat, swallowing

edible gemstones

of those more 

suitable for my make.

i’m not sorry if you quake.

you simply have to 

learn anew, and it isn’t

my work to teach you, 

though i do, eye dew

i am tired of convincing

i am tired of your wincing

create a new library

dedicate yourself to

reading what you haven’t

by those whose stories

you’ve ignored and then

we’ll talk.

until then, it’s the weather,

or bust!

but shimmer, i must.