WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A POET
KIM GÖRANSSON
UB
thanks for reading an undergroundbooks.org uncopyrighted book of smeared ink
WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A POET
TO BEND MY HEART SO THAT IT TOUCHES YOURS JUST ONCE
OR HOLD AN ENTIRE OCEAN ON 3 FINGERTIPS
IT WAS SOMETHING ABOUT A LETTER A LETTER OR A DOG ABOUT WALKING PAST THE HOUSE AND NOT LOOKING BACK DOWN BY THE WATERFRONT A GANG OF YOUNG NAZIS PLAYING MINIGOLF FEEDING THE SEAGULLS
“IT SEEMS SO IMPOSSIBLE THAT BEHIND EVERY WINDOW THERE ARE REAL PEOPLE LIVING REAL LIVES”
MAYBE IF I WAS A POET I COULD HOLD YOU RIGHT THROUGH THIS PAPER SO HARD BUT MAYBE...
NOT
MAYBE ALL WORDS ARE DIFFERENT TO EVERYONE AND NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW ANYONE ELSE
ONCE THERE WAS A BOY RUNNING THROUGH THE THORNS WITHOUT A NAME IN A BOOK WITHOUT A SPINE A STORY ONLY MOTHERS KNEW BEFORE THE SKY WAS FULLY FORMED I SIT IN THE TALL GRASS I AM THE INTRUDER PLEASE EXCUSE MY CHEWY FLESH A GIFT TO THE GAPING TEETH OF THE UNDERBRUSH HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE TO COMPLETELY DISAPPEAR INTO SUCH A WARM MOUTH GREEDY BURROW IN THE MOSS
NOT EVEN A BONE WOULD REMAIN BUT THE SORROWFUL HUMMING OF A THOUSAND TONGUELESS MOTHERS A THOUSAND MOTHERLESS TONGUES I HOLD THE FLAME UNDER THE PETALS AND BURN THE SUN THROUGH THE TREES HOLD STILL THE PAIN I AM SOMEONE’S PETALS I LAY MY HEART ON THE ROCKS AND SLEEP
SOMETIMES I THINK ABOUT BEING A SCHOOL SHOOTING VICTIM I’M WALKING DOWN THE CORRIDOR COVERED IN BLOOD EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT ME EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT ME EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT ME
IMAGINE A ROOM FURTHEST FROM THE WINDOW FATHER TELLS THE STORY OF THE CYCLOPS THE STORY OF JAPAN AND THE GIANT STOMACH ACHE THERE IS AN OPENING MAYBE THERE IS AN OPENING ALL PEOPLE HAVE THEIR HEARTS IN DIFFERENT PLACES STASHED IN THE BASEMENT I KEEP SEEING THE BOY “LET’S PLAY A GAME OF HIDE AND SEEK” “LET’S PLAY A GAME OF ALONE”
I’M NO ONE UNDER THE KITCHEN TABLE I DON’T HAVE TO CRY BUT DO SO SOMEONE WILL NOTICE MY TEARS ARE PURPLE ASHES MY COSTUME UNPRECEDENTED MY LINES ARE WELL-REHEARSED “NO” I SAY “YOU CAN’T TAKE THAT”
MY SADNESS IS A DRUM THAT WAKES NO ONE MY SADNESS FALLS ON ITS FACE AND NO ONE LAUGHS MY SADNESS CLINGS TO A BRIDGE WITH A VIEW TO THE CITY WELCOME TO THE CITY SAYS MY SADNESS THE TOUR GUIDE EVEN THE NEGOTIATOR LOSES HIS TEMPER THEN MY SADNESS JUMPS LAUGHING INTO THE BLACK NOTHING A HYSTERICAL LAUGH THAT HAS NO SHAME
THE DREAM IS THE SAME EVERY NIGHT
SLOWLYWATERFILLINGMYLUNGS SLOWLYWATERFILLINGMYLUNGS
WHEN I WAKE UP THE SKY HURTS SO MUCH
AND IT’S ALL MY FAULT
BECAUSE MY LIPS WILL NEVER TOUCH MY OWN BACK
THE VIEW OUTSIDE MY WINDOW
NEVER CHANGES
WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE A POET
FEEL THE ORACLE THRUMMING IN MY THROAT
AND NAIL MY TONGUE TO THE SIDEWALK FOR 100 DAYS WITH A SIGN THAT SAYS “GATHER THE TEARS OF A SCYSCRAPER”
“WHOLE SUMMERS ARE SPENT IN THIS WAY”
SO FAR AWAY WHAT FITS IN ONE HAND THE WOMAN ON THE SEVENTH FLOOR BALCONY LOST IN THOUGHT AND THE VINES
ONE DAY I GO WALKING IN THESE WOODS ONE DAY I GO WALKING AN EXILE IN THE MOSS MOUTH FULL OF THESE DENSE WOODS I GO WALKING ONE DAY I AM NO ONE BUT THE VINES THE QUIET ANCIENT LANGUAGE ENSNARES ME MAKE MY GUTS TURN MY INSIDES RESEMBLE THESE WOODS’ TORN EDGES GUTS HUMMING THE DIRT SONG SWELLING MOTHER NOW FILL MY LUNGS
SWELLING MOTHER OF THE ANCIENT TALKING TONGUES GROW A GENTLE BIRCH IN MY CHEST A DAY IN THE WOODS TO SIT ABSOLUTELY STILL IN TO ENTER THE SWARM OF
THE PINES SEWING SHUT THE EYES THE BREATHING SLOWS I’M A NEEDLE BED ON MY STOMACH I CLOSE MY EYES AND SINK FEELING A LEAF FEELING THE EARTH FOLDING ITSELF AROUND AND IN
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