Grape Saltwater Taffy

If a bastard child were to ever enter a candy shop, he would be unmindful of the ways that things are handled there. The candy shop owner would notice that even a bastard child cannot help, but be thrilled upon laying his eyes on such a delightful collection.

A healthy child’s father buys his son five saltwater taffies. One in each flavor—wood, glass, a needle, stone and grape. The child examines the pieces and declare he does not like grape saltwater taffies, for it is piquant, and the piece is abandoned. (In a tribe of men, the reflections of health cannot be trounced.)

Oblivious of any kinds of gestures, the bastard child burys the grape saltwater taffy in his stomach. He is not thankful, he is not envious, he is not angry and he is not sad. The bastard child knows only of himself. He knows, only, that in order to retain life, one’s stomach must be filled. The bastard child unwraps the grape saltwater taffy and plants it in the earth.

When the initial thrill of the candy shop dies, the bastard child will wobble back into the alley and he will not be seen nor heard. The bastard child has already forgotten about the grape saltwater taffy. And the earth is fed and it is just another day.

Dear Pablo

My soul is a teeny little fetus playing musical chairs alone at night.
Love,
Danny

Dear Danny

My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.
Love,
Pablo

There’s This Pitcher of Something Good and Holy

Everything’s so perfect, I’m afraid. How can things be better? I don’t know. Sometimes there’s this emptiness and sometimes there’s this pitcher of something good and holy and it fills you right up. And it’s easy and it's flawless and it's straightforward. This thing’s a reminder and it’s an event. It’s friends and it’s lovers. It’s your children and they’re beautiful, young and handsome. It’s adoration, affection and love stitched into sighs. It’s inexperienced smiles. It’s a wheel and it’s flowers. It’s tombstones and it’s cakes. It’s one too many beers. It’s a blushing with embarrassment. It’s senseless lies made to make you smile. It’s one too many of a good thing. There’s this pitcher of something good and holy and it fills you right up.

Everyday (A hey, a hey hey)

Outside I see colors. Starting from my right are iris, clementine and ruby. (Colors.) They attract me. I fall out my window. I gather myself and look at the colors. A giant palm is not so threatening for I discover if I stand, I am taller. I find there are many colors and I take off from time to time.

Strawberries (God's light shines upon you)

Hope multiplies and you can rest assure that your world (the world) will be buoyed up. And the needle is soft and lovely. But also, know what's good for you.

Do not be a fool.
Do not be a fool.

Smile, because you are aware. I shall lay down on this good earth, for its surface is soothing.

Feather-plucking

I hide behind the tall tree. I shall claim it as my adult neck. the Scarecrow grins and I continue climbing up. Up the ladder. I am pleased about my nailing the hook and the ladder on the tree. Children are worth much all the time. I am sitting in the park. (I am old.) I am watching ducks, watching little babies rise up. I take off my lips and jump from the tall tree. I am having difficulty telling apart children from ducks. The sprinkler turns on, and I am cold (and scared). I am a baby again, rocking, cradled in the arms of the Scarecrow. And the grin on its face. Scratches on my face. I can smell myself—good, sanitary, replete. I begin to eat my hands, but I cannot. I vomit. I try to eat my hands again, but I cannot. I vomit. I try to eat my hands again, but I cannot. I vomit. I try to eat my hands again, but I cannot. I vomit.

When I do not want this any longer, I say no to the Scarecrow. I dismantle him and sweep the dried clover into the barn. I want to burn it, but I do not have a lighter. I climb higher.