Mother Bangs The Drum 7/17/15

Mother pours me onto a horse bareback, riding wild sky. Mother bangs the drum of life with no visible means. Mother puts dark magnets behind my eyes. Mother has experience talk senile, while a private laughing, tremors below. A striptease on the stage of cognition is pulling tongues out of beliefs. My breath is carving a jaw out of determined mind. Everything sacred is laughing gravy.

Mother bullies my attention. Mother rips off my mask of familiarity. Mother chokes my sweet sense of recognize. Mother makes me be the child, hands me kite-string pulling me to the sky, then takes back the string, hands me the sky and tells me to "fly it". Mother takes away all doorknobs of escape, all lips of complaint.

Mother tells me "you are a Siamese twin to recognition joined where thought comes". Mother has cyclone eyes dressing me down while my twin sips our emptiness for strength. Mother forces me to swallow this thick of paradox. Mother says, "you are an orphan with a pocketful of boundaries". All my bones collapse their stance of certainty with her words. Where I was dense, a jellyfish proceeds to delicately unfold.

Mother's hand strokes me with her coming from afar. Dare I wake myself with the noise of perception. Mother is a splay of cobra-headed fire hoses, readied to pounce on my sense of who I am. Mother makes me wear what devours me as my runny nose. Mother feeds me her breast milk of fizzle and zoom. Finally I put on the black glove of a hollow world and touch all that was before before . . .