DETERMINED

 

12:36 a. m. Eleven times eighty-three. Sixty in six years, and the cat is smooth, the gallon of windshield wiper fluid is not a Christian notion, or wanting to, something like it, give a little information due to brotherliness—I want you for my tribe of minions. We celebrate Mother’s Day like each whisper trails a drunk driver, which I think also has a fundamentally irrational source, in fact reconstructed. Counting backwards from seven, no parity, dry eyes, a skin on the water in the toilet due to insolvency, I cleaned all the ashtrays out with an absorbent paper towel. It’s almost the 1 a.m. before the day before the awful meeting. I mean, the budget is a fictional construction. I pass a dollar through a beam of purple light. The dog in the wallpapered dean’s office hears it. I put the love back inside my wallet. I want to take you to the river this afternoon, and with his studded eyes and cold nose, it’s Coleman Lantern time, with the conditions for thunderstorms upon us now in late April.  The first idea of this new beginning now is a thesis to allow any relationship I want to engage in. I feel determined. I have a right to tiny socks balled up beside the bed. But we’re more than just a soundtrack to a movie. The “experts” were from many different areas. They appreciated the fact that you allowed them to sway you so sadly toward another week of indecisiveness and silence in bed. The churches don’t have so many bells out here anymore. I send a picture of a yellow notice that came to me by mail photographed in a text message. They’re selling the cabin with the pond. Seagulls and the smell of fish and logs stacked and the dark tunnel through the woods in snow with spring coming, a little curlicue of smoke above the chimney, the woods printed inside there on every wall and the wind blowing through the pine trees at midnight, moonlight coming through the window and dripping all over your skin, the water still so warm though for your early morning bath.

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This is the prose poem from assignments three, using pieces of text from those five texts I handed out . . .