Friday, January 25, 2013

Too Much

Too much, too soon—I spent the afternoon
empty of everything but gimme, need and desire
like two hands clutching each other
angrily, hammering gaps into the walls.
I woke up twisted like this, like knotted bone,
like a nest in a hurricane,
two snakes in a swamp. I can’t slow down,
can’t stop, can’t even
make sense of these senses, the window panes
are full of rage and my head of cold wind
streaked with ancient sun.
This rug is a restless leopard skin; this chair
the mouth of a flytrap; these clothes
vines. It all hums
with the strangeness of living,
life capricious and unflinching,
the flashing eye of a cat
at night.