Tag Archives: stasis

So Much Beauty to Offer, But too Ugly To Move

Just remember to write, tuck the face, face the soul

Until the foul
Erodes

Like the million splintered tiny silver angels that floated on that morning when everything changed.

Receive the vision so you may heal the tribe
Write the stories only if you feel the vibe
But don’t outsource your soul

Not everyone
Can have
An Elephant Man

so stay down in the trench and come up just once when night appears
or the day the sun has decided to make you his ally.

 

"A Kangalee Mourning" [photo by Nina Fleck, 2009]

“A Kangalee Mourning” [photo by Nina Fleck, 2009]

*this poem was originally published in the Outlaw Poetry Network

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The Frozen Man

There’s only one problem with man: the fact that he keeps going on.

Dennis Leroy Kangalee frozen head
*

Somehow I am not sure if it will matter. In fact it won’t. Because I’ll still have to pay rent tomorrow, right? Whether it’s a republican or democrat, whether it’s Sunday or Monday — whether I’m what you’d call dark or light — I’ll still have to pay rent? So that says it all right there. And if it doesn’t matter, why play the game?

I’ve been a frozen man a long time, at least since my last suicide attempt.

I changed when I got out of the coma, somehow I felt the things around me differently…like a strip of flesh with the flu. Some call it a religious experience-peak flow-runner’s high. I don’t know. I don’t care anymore. But I do know that all my collected dreams, all my wishes, all the bets I placed — did not come through. I never played with my money, the gamble was with my life. And I enticed others to invest in me. And when I let them down, I couldn’t get back up. Only I wasn’t lame so I couldn’t be shot. I was frozen. Stuck inside myself. I had reached the end of imagination and there was nothing left for me to see or say. I was like a dangling spoon.

I knew a record collector who hooked heroin and every time he’d cook up, he’d bend his spoon into a question mark. When I asked him why, he said exactly. He was shooting the answer into his veins.

*

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