Pantomime ~ The Used Life

The world is high enough
The sky is on the second floor
Ten tiers and a castle
Peering through the eye slits
of the morning, a connecting wire,
two dungeons and a beetle,
an elevator where the moon lives,
nipping at the bower like a starfish

There’s a boudoir with no name
Where the mirrors are high and the panties
ride low and the women stain the cups
with red lipstick and the men play
solitaire with one hand, not two
Four fingers and a thimble

A room where all the aces are spades
Where the world is inside out and
everything is a reflection
of everything else
and all they can think to do is
mute their mouths on a mattress
and pull up their pantylines
Pantomime, a shot of gin and a stale cigarette

The chime of a smartphone
Give your girl a kiss and tell her she’s pretty
A sentence like a sphinx
A thumbprint
A swipe of the hands
(There is no ending)
In the castle that opened its doors
to the skin of the world
Unknown
Except through a language
of signs and plastic arrows
That hides the empty sky from our faces

In the room of no heroes
Where all the endings are written
somewhere in California in that
no name city six floors down
where once upon a time the earth
slept in its cradle and
Jack and Jill set fire to the pear trees
and Cinderella flung off her pumpkin
while Snow White shot pool with
the seven dwarfs stripped
down to their hats

And none of the stories they tell
have any beginnings
And their eyes keep reading
And their hands keep catching stars
But the world’s not high enough
Just not
high
enough

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Introducing The Used Life ~ Rain Buzz

rainbuzz

There will have been a night
that sat on a house
with no fence
where the stars came in

A night made of lightning, like a flash
that tore from between two legs,
switched off the lights,
and crowded the walls
with neighbors like a speakeasy,
a room with a shot glass for an eye,
two wooden arms and a stump,
a night like house, a house like a body,
a sky like two clouds trapped in a wine bottle,
a pop in a cork where the moon came in

There will have been a man with big dreams
and woman who only wanted flowers,
a waiter and a pool boy
and a cluster of mothers comparing jeans
and Napa Valley Chardonnays

And there will have been children
who curled up with their babysitters
and slept to the buzz of the gnats
and the beat of the fireflies
that never stopped dancing
while their parents went down to the carpets,
down to the knees of the house,
down to the mats made of silk
and the smell of the wood and
they flung their bras against the naked walls
and traded bourbon with their friends
and husbands with their wives
and ate cake out of each other’s hands
while no one else was watching

And there will have been an uncertain ending
involving a man who bailed a boat
as big as a foot and sailed
as if from a distant island
to the storm of storms,
to the source of the lightning,
and clasped the hand
of all things unafraid, and built
the dam that stopped the flood
that saved the fence
that surrounded the yard
of the little white house made of stars


You can read more of The Used Life here