Fourth Entry

so very tired, but i must continue working for the man. Danielle's reading is tonight, EARSHOT is such a cool series. Nicole is doing great stuff there. we took a class with Matthew Zapruder about a poet's career and whatnot. He was very big on not trying to play the established game. He urged us to go our own way, start our own readings, publish our own magazines. Nicole was way ahead of him. On that note, I'd like to announce that I am in the very early planning stages of starting a magazine myself. And, if you are reading this, feel free to email me some of your work. The more I have to choose from the better.

Here's my poem:

SEEDY UNDERBELLY

The seeds were varied, green, black and brown
I cut the belly with the belly facing down
Once opened the seeds began to dive
Out of the body, like a bursting hive

I climb inside the body. And find myself lying on the ground in a vast field. Nature itself is so alien to me I feel like Neil Armstrong standing up. I look down at the scalpel in my hand. I lick the seed juices off, cutting my tongue open. Two farmers come up and yell at me. They are scared of me and I can’t ask them where I am. A pumpkin is thrown at me and lands on my head, becoming an ad hoc helmet. Now I really feel like Neil Armstrong, except I am breathing dark orange pumpkin seeds. I drop the scalpel and raise my hands, murmuring as blood drips out of the pumpkin and down my neck. I feel blind and the smell is overpowering. The sound of my own voice blasts back at my face. The farmers push me down to the ground, and I fall back out of the body onto the hospital floor. The farmers chase me, with a pumpkin on my head, bloodstain on my shirt and covered in seeds like a sprout-shrouded scarecrow. I bust into the maternity ward, I yank the pumpkin off of my head. The doors swing closed. The white lights blind me. The young nurse screams in my face.