athena drops a mountain

pt.1 el gato

As the fever begins to thicken
around my mental orbs
I notice the empty blue
where clouds once floated free
while large boats formed on the horizon

The fog has rolled in
from the deeper recesses of my Amygdala
and Lower Cerebellum where
- once hand-stands now crunches -
I hone my cerebral dexterity

I'm not feeling well
but the gentle lapping of waves
on the stone beach
keeps tempo with the flow of oxygen
as it abandons my heart

I'm offered massaging
and gentle caress
to soothe what's gone ailing
and soften the rest
by the man of this place
the host by my side
an ex-pat and sheep-heard
and traveling guide

Let me list for you my pains
before we press on:
first and fore the frontal cortex
or thereabouts
followed in rough order
by heel and thigh
my lower half spine
and upper right calf
my thumb bone and thenar
and the balls of my toes

my focus is pulled
with every small throbbing
and no one remains to mind my surroundings
nor objects nor actions
nor the meanings they bear
nor the mountain that's forming
beneath where I sit
nor the glorious wreck
of knit, twist and purl
with widening gauge and wandering gate
that spills from my needles
in quickening knots

I don't remember what you were saying
but your hands were finding deep secrets of mine
long crevices formed between muscle and skin
by the long-form erosion of eternal progression

Who are you, again?
and what's that sharp tingling
and why is my back all twisted and bent
and where are your fingers
are where are my robes
and who's feet are marching
and when is my grave
and water's for drinking
and mountains to climb
and toothpicks for killings
and poems that don't rhyme
and this is a sad song
and so are your eyes
and where are my nerve ends
and why am I fighting
and where are your eyes
and so on
and so on
and so
on and on

pt.2 one eyed jack and the serpent bone

you rip drip right through me
and the ground is wet with your cum

pt.3 there and back again

In retrospect
I'm not sure why I brought the mountain
when packing my things

It was there and I left in a hurry
a bit of a daze
and some might even say
a panic of sorts

I left without announcement
the next day
or three days after

My exit was calm
my visage collected
a game that I play
with trenchcoat and hat

the fog and the ocean
and the smell of your sweat
that lingered in my room
long after you left
made it hard to count
the minutes as they passed

there was so much to do
without moving
or letting the covers shift
to reveal any inch of my body
as I slowly reassembled
the parts that I could
from the scraps I found scattered
around corners of my psyche
and discarded memories

I left with this mountain
and myself
(all knee and ankle bone)
and a few things I would need for the journey
my toothbrush but not much else

pt.4 notes towards a manifesto

With a knife
or with needles
with spiders and salt
with cozy warm mittened full uzi assault
with a pine cone and sulfer
with glitter and mint
with a glancing right hook
and a wink in my eye
with a night in the bathtub
with my favorite book
with candles
with ice cream
with wandering thoughts
with canvas and yarn
and two-ply wool socks

We'll suffer alone
and one day you'll die
and I'll die too
and that's all I ask

on that day I'll be happy
and celebrate with friends
as we board your final ferry
with pickaxe in hand
and lay waste
even
to mortality

you shit.

p5. exfoliate

This Is Just To Say
I have left the mountain
two fathoms out and one deep

Forgive me
It was heavy