Two Poems
Dan Raphael
Subterranean
in the trunk inside the trunk
wearing auto parts, parts of kitchen appliances.
egg beaters 2 inches tall like a steam punk mechanical fly
whales emulating side-wheelers
repeat the trees, the grace of will, the coincidence of love
trumping gravity but not other planets, planets disguised as body
organs—
when my livers in retrograde, when my nostrils & lungs are in
opposition
flip a coin & all the stars are behind us
populating a galaxy w/ gelatinous shadows
plucking sparks like novas of guitar strings;
a wind I cant feel blows the music away
before I can name it, before I have a beat to open
This June could be March
when i get to the streets more like swimming
fins on the earth, fins in the air slice open the sun
to find several directions, no rules.
the wind cant stay out of my face
as my skin cant decide between fur and feather, hard or soft, dry
or oily
my inner dermatologist confronts the skys jittery mirror
like a wall of reeds, whistles and bottle tops, each begging to be
inserted in
momentary lips rubbed raw & musical by all that needs to escape
so many levers in the asphalt reacting randomly to my steps—
time-delay,
a flame 3 states north, something I’ve never seen now in my
pocket—
where the streets only names are a language I’m too light &
young to utter,prostrating through the neighborhood without compass or
turn signal,naked as grass, flowing like a hundred syrup fountains,
clouds of liberated skin hazing me with micro-weather—
relative humility, barometric pleasure, high pressure life-styles
and midnights so still time could change directions if I twitch,
when my big hand cant find my crotch and my little hands
unable to ward offthe starving meteor flies repulsed by their asphalt relatives,
drawn to the vacuum malls of my heart
Dan Raphael’s most recent books are The State I’m In (nine muses books) and Impulse & Warp: The Selected 20th Century Poems (Wordcraft of Oregon). Current poems appear in Otoliths, Caliban, Unlikely Stories, Big Bridge and Shadows of the Future.
