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Landscape with Fruit Rot & Millipede
par
Richard Siken
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I cut off my head and threw it in the sky. It turned into birds. I called it thinking. The view from above-- untethered scrutiny. It helps to have an anchor but your head is going somewhere anyway. It's a matter of willpower. O little birds, you flap around and make a mess of the milk-blue sky--all these ghosts come streaming down and sometimes I wish I had something else. A redemptive imagination, for example. The life of the mind is a disappointment, but remember what stands for what. We deduce backwards into first causes--stone in the pond of things, splash splash--or we throw ourselves into the future. We all move forward anyway. Ripples is all directions. What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn't know it's dead. A painting, for instance. An abstraction. Cut off your head, kid. For all the good it'll do ya. I glued my head back on. All thoughts finish themselves eventually. I wish it were true. Paint all the men you want but sooner or later they go to ground and rot. The mind fights the body and the body fights the land. It wants our bodies, the landscape does, and everyone runs the risk of being swallowed up. Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory? We do not walk through a passive landscape. The paint dries eventually. The bodies decompose eventually. We collide with place, which is another name for God, and limp away with a permanent injury. Ask for a blessing? You can try, but we will not remain unscathed. Flex your will or abandon your will and let the world have its way with you, or disappear and save everyone the bother of a dark suit. Why live a life? Well, why are you asking? I put on my best shirt because the painting looked so bad. Color bleeds, so make it work for you. Gravity pulls, so make it work for you. Rubbing your feet at night or clutching your stomach in the morning. It was illegible--no line of sight, too many angles of approach, smoke in the distance. It made no sense. When you have nothing to say, set something on fire. A blurry landscape is useless.
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