THE WINDOWS HALLUCINATE
Š MARY KASIMOR 2013
LRL
little red leaves textile editions www.littleredleaves.com
THE WINDOWS HALLUCINATE Mary Kasimor
little red leaves textile series
a quiet novel about argentina A quiet novel LIVES Here Where The trucK descends INTO solitude FROM the city into OCEan nameless SAND And BARNacles its yearly decline recorded Changes into an ART show where YoU drink WINE and record the NERVES of silence The tape deck DEcides to never Again PLAY Coltrane OR Cohen or unnamed BIRDs of human TRICKERY in beautiful back alleys of lilacs and Bruised FRUIT of SEx BACK to the water Of what lifE is translated into a primaL
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Tongue BEFORE fire and ETHereal food And movies and THE AIr conditioner’s polyester afternoon nYLON behind the WHITE Fence that keeps SQUIRRELs and rose Bushes FOR The FUNction of highest Thought devised through WateR gazing a practice of the birds IS TO FLY into the human nAVEl and TO develop PATTerns of flight happenING on a deserted LAND before expectaTIONS were STREWn back into The water WITH orange Peels and eMPty wine BOTTLES sometimes
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A tampon or EMPTied dresser of white UnderWEAr ART (a ParT OF) the NOVEL followed through Without A reward kNowing THAT it would Remain ANONymous as A voice BUT Buck Mulligan was rewarded with A GooD FOR Irish tea drinking from a BLUE mug A rose FORM Of jesus though the sEA Walls He slipped away into argENTIna
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hera The HUSSY queen Advertis ing her PerfeCT skin on AGE Loss on Pluto sWilling her GIN and selling HERSELf aT the BEST Price in the WINDows Hallucinating PLEASURE inside the Windows of FIRE 59% oFF and 75% More in the EXTRAvagance of PAIN In a pleasure BED IN A frenzy of MURDER she FaileD and Desires Another boy ANOTHer bottle of GIN she sPins the eggs Inside the MOON nothing HaTCHed the SPARROW in the Library FINISHEd the wordS IN
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VIsibLE SuN Shapes THE curvE of Theory ANOTHer SWING of light NOTHING Stays The SAME The LOSS Of LOVers with IN the Noise OF love THE King’s MEN leFT AS SoundS ff ff ff fand EEE EEEEmmmm FLEEING the MINd
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the science of Philip K Dick this country is FULL of stranGE and DANGERous and Stupid People BUT Philip k diCK was the BRAVEST WRITer who CAME out of CHAOS we know So LITTLE about the OTHERs I JUDGe with An OPEN mind you are CHIC as the FRUIT vendor who LIVES upSTAIRS above the BOOkSTore that holds AVANt garde WISDOM and THE fRUIT Vendor writes Poems aBout APPLes and Asparagus SPEED is in thE water
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I PRAY for Fame but in THIS Small TOWN I close the DOOR And HIDE my MANUSCRIPTS in the BAThroom I AM geTTING old and still am SEEing NO Visions I digest The DIRT more Money CHANGED MY HandS and MADE me LESS than humble in A SECond Growth FOREST AMONG the gifts From the DEAD OlD greeting Cards and Photos appear in MY Sleep and ON the OCEAN oor
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Water in My Lungs the BuiLDING bursts WITH mY InueNCE Your VOICE SING song and KINdness makes me NERVOUS Where the FIBer of the earth Hides IN old photos mY Grandmother WAS never SALT of the EARTH thank god
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a starry night Plants speak in CODE tongue WALKERS in desert talK straight Dope IS for THOSE Who EXHale A Starry STARRY night WHEN the painter DRoppeD over for COcktailS WHEN we GathERED Around WAITing for Kool Aid IS an ALLUSION To the PAST in the JUNGLE the plants HABITAT was Involved IN A Sting OPERation WHO knew?
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NOT even the BAD guys were Bad and when the GOOD Guys wanted to START a UNION THEY knew that the Honey Bees were DYING OF broken HEARTS IT WAS the greenery That CHANged the EARTH and the SHOPPING malls Reflected a TOLERAnce for flies and ANTS AND OTHER living Things but THAT was BE FORE we DroppeD the BOMB INTO
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A FIELd AND found OUR selves tasting ALL The POisonS AND IN a CHUNK of Ocean We died FLOATINGggg away in UseLESS oxygeN
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love to howard zinns MILEs past the FeelingG Walls I Lit A cigarette but NO I don’T SmOke… the MOON burst INTO FLAme while I sat ON THE OTHer Side I felt the same No ONE questioned the NUMBERS and I felt The SKY’s divisibility StartLEDA SMALL birth IT WAS sci-fi in The tOWER MOVING oFF the Tired ACRE Where we grew PUMPKINS and kale I felt eterniTY in my SKIN SMOOTH And BABY stupid just for OPENing up The SOFTEST petals of HIStory I won
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I did Not Actually know the OTHER version I asked Howard ZINNS After he dieD For my BLUE collar DREAMS He REFerred me to Judy GARLand and SHE gave me a Checkered PAST in an apron holding a TRIANGle of Geometry I Don’T know WHY I want to HOLD worker POLITICS But I was DRAWN to ART and Mansions That HELd ANTIQUES’ Strong jointS after StayINg In FRANCe I felt the AWKwardness Of PROletarian Despair that could NOT BE held In a Silver SpOOn
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My children lovED the Tarnish I was BORED with the BORing rich who Complained aBOut their POWER(AS though I should Keep Their THOUGHTS quiet) IT was A GOOD Day and I ended with the awkwardness of The maze that seduced the ants Where as HERE I am Stuck
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requiem for dog at My FIRST communion the PEONies shot off their HEADS for gOD in GlorIOus red the Anti-ANTS sentiment IS notHING but SCIENCE is the BODY of CHRISt AND noT A force of Nature but the sheer WHITe SuN wears ME Encased in my naturAL Family NEXT To THE CHINa slippers When I was OF age I founD My BODY fettered by Holiness SO I sez TO JESUS Christ There IS more to THIS than WAXEN breaths OF PAST Dead I Miss
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my GRAndfather and SOON my soul WILL disappear into the flames Then THE ashes will SETTLE Into my HaiR I used MY last SILver DollAR And SALvation eludes EVEN The ANTS in a piqué of Bloody PEONies that are Still And RELAted to another AUNT who WAS never on THE farm SHE lived with Old DUST next to dogs and god crochetinG her FUTure withIN FORTune and AN Impatient HEART breaking NEXT to that Holy Photo of me and DOG Bleeding ALL over my Breast
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floa tin g kans a s whispers s from an old a n old dog
love
breaks a way
from kans as it take s a smile fac e a wa y from sunshinefr ommmwh it e s pace place s form al dirt ensconced breadbreat he and s hemo ved
a vacuu m land in
kans as aprayer and prai rie an
d yell o w sun an
d golden eat
w heat an d h
of surface ic ker
ligh t war n s know led ge within the at tened gut s a n d bit ternes s shar p ened darknes s m oon of I nlandoati n g
no thin
hear t
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multipl e s of
wine
Sinn ersshining s in bla c k e ye black s in in multipl e s of los t cha nces overt hehil l & char co al out lin e s
cert
aintyp e s o f belief s i n sin gl e
ďŹ l e o n a at ho riz o n
sta r s s pea k i
n for e
igntonguechangeli ngba l lso f ten wine
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MARY KASIMOR has been published in many online and print journals, including Otoliths, MIPOesias, Moria, Fact-Simile, GutCult, Cannot Exist, Eccolinguistics, ReconďŹ gurations, and Big Bridge among others. She recently won the Merida Poetry Fellowship that was awarded by the US Poets in Mexico. She has two books published: & cruel red (Otoliths) and silk string arias (BlazeVox Books).
This little red leaves textile series chapbook was designed and sewn by Dawn Pendergast in Houston, Texas.