talking about Buddhism makes me
hungry it makes me wish
i were food less like the
hotdog in the song more
like succulent celery stalks stringy like
mango complete
with floss or needing floss
i’ve been thinking about dancing
again despite having lost my legs recently
they were only holding me back the loss
is a lucky license to pick up a seventh
sense having grown tired
of the sixth
there are few people in my life that really move me
and there are thousands seas within seas of them
gurgling up messages speaking
in tongues, with tongues, from tongues
because
the language that formerly carried us has sprung some
leaks
my stomach is rumbling again
like thunder pounding in the sky
(but softly)
it is the very idea of the complexity
of us that makes me feel
on empty
full full
i want to be
full full
i want to speak full in the
mouth and thick
in the tongue
i want to use words—to use them
to beat them like drums and shake them like
experience
but I stand firm on the stalks these
trousers like robots moving my legs
so large so fat
through things I think I’d like to
sit down with
for coffee and tranquilizers
i’d like to know there’s still time
to be full
i’d like to lick these shaggy limbs off
and be still
but everyone around me is working like
lemmings to get out of their skin
you do not know
how much this food means
to me
you wonder
how can she be obese and hungry?
I wonder
how can you see me through your
milkshake eyes?
how can you suck at the fat and be
bags of bones lingering?
i’ll tell you a secret: you were taught to un
learn yourself you were given the
tools
to build bird nests from brick look
at how you fall from falling
throw out the thick from your lids and
put it in your mouth where you first learned
to feed yourself this is have
have not before the
backdrop
of equality who told them they could be the only ones
who were telling more
than a story?
are they more credible now
because they were hallucinating then?
i say,
my puppet,
who has got their fist
in you
these days?
