She, Part 1

She – She who swimmingly traipses through the Other place –

A walking green-yellow “Why didn’t I think of that” attack –

She waits around the corner,

            but not for me,

            and not for you.

 

Jennifer’s Rabbit is so outside the trick you played on M.H. the other day, you

      explode.

 

It’s the impetus behind those darkly irrational (rational?) stings, when the unimportant comes to the surface and lets loose its hideous scream.

Suppression, aggression,

Jennifer will never have a clue.

 

And she might be a world-ending bitch; but then it’s nothing. She can be your best friend, a total stranger, and all you can say is

“fly, rabbit, fly!”

 in the hopes that she might rise up

     and up 

            until she sprouts right up through the ground.

 

She, Part 2

She – isn’t everything.

Isn’t nothing either. Isn’t nothing sweet?

            Every groundhog has his day, and yours came while you slept. Surprise!

Because suddenly you understand the truth, and it all stems –

            flowers –

            springs, blue and bubbly and overflowing with relief –

from the ungod. I am I, says he, and you are you, and She –

            she isn’t everything.

But lo, the singing, dancing rabbit doesn’t leave.

            What did you expect?

It isn’t a cure, nor a blindfold. It’s an awakening of sorts, like the time the neighbors’ dog chased you three blocks until you turned around and kicked it upside the head, foot tracing irrational arc through gleefully empty space, connecting in cartoon-smashery with a Crunch to remember.

            The truth comes hard and fast in the dark-green jungle of transcendence – when you GET the fact that I’m just as human as you and her.

            Of course –

                        you knew it was coming –

                                    and that’s when you meet your own rabbit.

You can’t lose.

You can’t lose.

You can’t lose.

 

 

Bonus Poem:

 

Fixing a Bridge

 

It’s a hair’s length out of

            Bedlam

Maroon catterwauls’ ballast and

            bunks,

the spinning coffin of whose trash can is

            crunked.

But in spite of terrification –

            globalization –

                        magnanimous edification –

I wait, I rest, I hibernate

And the whole time, giants walk through tapestried halls of brocade challenges.

So I yell:

            “Let’s build a bridge!”