Extreme Behaviour 101

you dream of a tree on your back, a crow
on your shoulder, whispering to you,
feathers floating free,

the wind covering your body like a
wild animal, you have no more rules
for this body.



you write a love poem

for the uninterested--

tuck it under the mattress for a

younger generation to find

or the man who comes to take your bed

after you move away into the hills,

never to be seen again.



there comes a time for phone calls to home

for phone service to extend into the universe

where you've hidden among the exploded supernovas

in an attempt to fix things that you didn't break.

mother's spasming hands that drop dishes to the cold tile,



reading has become a special occasion

only to be done while researching something unnamed.




you cannot name the forces at work

behind your eyes or learn how your bones hold together

without reading it over & over, reciting it in your head

until all you can think of is how pointless it is to be held together

when it's so easy to be taken apart.



adam's rib so easily undone.



you pull out the old anatomy book you bought
naming the names of what holds you together -
the necessary and unnecessary.

your arm spasming relentlessly and you wish your
body was written out in red and blue,

not turning black.