On Being An Angel
“Be wary.” Your fears I read like braille, goose bump code on a body I knew long before I first reached yours. Even the endless may have a beginning, a split second we will never understand. Where then would you hide?
Where are the black crows tonight, the broken glass, the omens? I blink once to clear my eyes.
Thermoluminescence dating, the determination of the time elapsed since a material last saw the sun; how I know I love you, the moonlight bather who will not pose as savior in my battle scene or his own.
(though I had the dream again last night, the house was burning brightly, the dinner party uninterrupted as the butler fanned the flames. I was the only one who ran out and you held me back as I stood naked on the warehouse roof, from a salted sea breeze beckoning me to fly).
He said there would be something else, some whiskey-breathed revelation. I like him like this, when he doesn’t say a word and I can fall into the soft-lipped void, and I fall proudly in the new fragility he has helped me craft to help me break.
The 2:58 am clawing of a telephone like a strangers back, like complacency when the double speaks to herself and I, the total I, the unsure shape shifter. My inner lives crave completion: my searching a transfixation; my avoidance, divination. I know why the telephone does not ring.
I will borrow his utensils. The teeth, the feet, the words collected like medallions. They will be dirtied by my touch but I shall cleanse them with the same.
(was I ever in your words? Was I a ghost, a spool of yarn unraveled, a baby’s skull?)
I am not frightened of the things you say but the things that shrivel before they reach your tongue, how they coexist.
in a bent cosmos
none of this could really be true
we’re still waiting for something
to be true
we’ll keep waiting until the
cosmos shits itself
virus serves the severed flow…members severed served for several thousand years…past the retirement age…severed served…hold their heads up for all to see…severed past tense silent as if…sewage eyes sever gratitude…another example speaks death silence…bleeding appreciation in death tremor silence…for several thousand years…past inoculation ties luck shrinking and severed…viral testimony in wallets left on sewage stairs…sovereign of silence severs what we mean…nothing has changed at the center of $45 silence…dripping sewage in mists of fingertip silence…severely severed silence…in all sewage heads…tarnished ingrates careful not to tremble it’s all lowered death silence…mists picked up viral scan in perturbed lines of interlaced…appreciate our trembling thousand years…silence in severed shots…fading in death cuts out the game…$45 silence severed…present inexperienced virions…words as innocence left in the wallets of corpses hanging inoculation examples…if you press the right buttons…reconfigure the new viral line silence scan…blown circuit and silence shot…severed in red…testimony severed better while it works…far from the silence…seal silence & a severe flow past the pulse…severed sent…inoculate mutated strain lost in dial up flow…testimony now wasted as multiples scan silence…eager for results…loss of severed on silence pump…severed silence breaks the severe immune to infiltration of mutation mark…while severed scan eager for burn out flow…new coil virus lines not what they seem…probable flow process terminal severed testimony…severed sent to inspectors if…testimony mist severed with $45 silence in thousands of trembling…
wasn’t infinity the hammer cake?
Yet still the newest failures and the shit was turning from the belly and making a kind of finger drifting, wouldn’t calm it magisterially (say, numbing the wondering smile). Wasn’t step to the stretches paid the same 3 soft hearts, the time? Lightly, surprised beast—wasn’t infinity the hammer cake? Nothing been or dog cries, in nothing grit, nothing every had here is it. Exactly still Ur-Eternal and sidesplitting if about betrays on the way, loosely right alone too kind. Slink creatures despise unfair. Ha, rising again to drifting, so if right more secret sour, this we think bad sent facts, even still black you undergrowth half as precious. Only to the ways spit-shape the worry. Every quickly in hate, sometimes the same to secret this. Could speak alone—a sidewalk. And expecting breath of any miniature, move to think the ounces along. Nothing clean will ever equal.
Seth Mirza was clinically dead for a period of 2 years in the early ’90s. His work has appeared in The Ampersand, Exit Wound, Kiss the Mongrel, Stuffed Trigger, Ambergris, Counterexample Poetics, and other publications.
by K. M. Douglas
FIRST CURSE: Arise the first birth in warm obscure purity, admit the subtle passing of daylight chasing sanity, a ceremony of cracked walls and fallen hydrogen assume the freight mild ready desperate escape in train rail race the dust by day and sunlight wishing for obscurity
SECOND CURSE: We follow the laws we choose to follow, we follow the way, the legless way, the headless way, the endless way, the absolute infinity is always changing expanding contract disease the lungs they flow the breath below we pray we wait we give thanks we burst forth in sudden amazement and find the god divine alive in eyes we insist we see through
THIRD CURSE: Our carnal bard died a certain death of old age is a wave that shakes as the beach crashes back and daylight finds a new enemy and nitemare fits an image revealed by morning a memory gasp a last handshake a trigger a fact a gas chamber relate the mid-day earthquake and all the lasers chipped and micro melted skin flaps in piles burnt nervous hostile occupations bring flame to follow death in the a.m.i.m.we.are.eternity
K. M. Douglas grew up in Northeast Ohio and studied creative writing at The Ohio State University. He lives in Rainer, Washington with his wife, cat and dog. Cities of Blood, K. M.’s first published book of poetry, is available for Kindle. His first novel is In the Place Where There is No Darkness, a dystopian look at America through the eyes of the son of a suicidal ex-Army Ranger. http://www.kmdouglas.org