|
TODD BEERS
|
|
|
| He
Took Every- Thing She Gave Him |
|
A purple balloon
where the boys
find it, disappointed
at the lack of perceived magic. Our awe of looking at something most things don't do ended without choice as we, in our most private lives of sleep, became selfish without an obvious consequence. We would prefer it the way it was, unquestioning its temporary appeal of being special. But now, the game has changed. If we want movement we must use our arms and imagination. We know it won't be the same. After the initial burst of grief we carry on with the memory of floating, as if it were us, each one of us, ascending assumed limitations that were put upon us long before we were born |
|
|
|
| Leave me in an anguish of dark planets,
but do not show me your cool waist. ––Garcia Lorca
|
|
| In the backyard
of my dark planets my black hole sucks up the memory of a little girl stuck between conception and being forgotten about. She just floats, calling me fish and referring to herself as 'Dead Woman.' In the middle of night I wake with her looking at me, and I ask, What do you want?
No negotiating or manipulating
|
in the mirror of the empty now without the perspectives of deceit? That is the only question that remains. Here, my imagination becomes excessive baggage. The creative process is for naught up there. Up there a naughty girl is quiet being the queen. In a particularly haunting beauty, though not what one would call pretty, she still attracts men, never the less, with seriously cold results. Faint memories of masturbation linger in this space with a constant, almost nurturing whisper of, I told you so, in the voice of the one who hears it. |
|
for Noah
as ol' neil
sings there is a town in north ontario we take off your training wheels i say, stab it and steer from the center within all of my changes were there. |