--YOU COULD SAY BLUE FOREVER AND NOT BE LYING

The Doctrine of Inability

Overhead the hem

of a cloud

presses in

uncouth and persistent

like a black lung

black eye

sink hole

or barren eye socket.

If I breathe hard enough

does that mean

I’m forgiven

that the bees will stop dying?

At moments like these

I’m supposed to

stop

call someone

get up

move

turn on the lights.

But man, these leg irons

are on so tight

I’m seeing split screens.

I’m both here and there

two sides of the same frail ghost.

The air has never

tasted more fraudulent

or pornographic.

Sound of a tree split

of ripping flesh

a child’s frantic scream

crazy mad music

setting this ceiling on fire.

I don’t know what

planet to confiscate.

Everything’s so sticky.

Even the lake looks

anorexic and sickly green

like someone’s faded

sundress torn at the neck.

The little man playing

violin on the edge of

my tongue performs an encore

while my lawn chair teeth

do their best not to collapse

from the weight of nothing.

The lyrics are a mush

of mashed potatoes

and remorseful gravy.

What I hear is--

Where is blue

and where is __________,

and what then, my heart?