NON-FIGURATIVE, TWO-SHAPED, ANTI-GRAVITY SONG for Mark Fox
My memory wears one shoe A tornado swallowed whatever it greeted
In silhouette it appears an open mouth Hungry as an empty stomach it fed
Limping a kind of stuttering Shapely and swollen
Any any kind of stutter as any kind of stomach
Yes Was it a hungry tornado? Yes
I remember fits and starts It moved across the land
of fights and struggles The twister went leaping into the sky
a balancing act of tempestuous love It flew!
My memory is flying away
My memory is bound with a spur Fires came plunging through the funnel
It ties itself in a single lace The tornado twisted with passion
It laces itself in stitches And it laughed to burn itself
and slips into a face and slipped into place
Bound back on the earth. Ground
I remember that spur in the flesh It was a fiery dance
Causing me to jump The world it touched whirled into smoke
and I’m running running Up up up
My memory runs out
My stomach twists to think about it
My shoes had the longest memory I am a witness to some kind of passion
They fit me through the hardest years that keeps me empty and hungry
They were feather pillows
They were soft, private flesh Hold me
My shoes defined me, kept me I lie on my belly applying pressure as food
Am I undone by my own passions
Didn’t they remember for me where I had been
My shoes looked back I feel wild and nervous
I saw what they saw
The pattern rips along the muscle grain
But memory never protected me Organs billow—expand and contract
I walked through the years like danger I remain hungry for physiology
I was a daredevil
My feet were blistered raw Warm me
My shoes kept me progressing
My passion is private and lonely What is my body asking for
Suddenly the ground fell out from below me
My shoes looked down I am wild and nervous
I felt what they felt