Christopher M. Lavery

It depends on how I feel about the bones in my body.
I can feel your hipbones through water canal-over there.

And that can mean only one thing-lots and lots of water.

“Aqautiquious” in correction of nothing relating to it somehow, it remakes that connection of bones, “oh,… them bones-them bones-them…”; nearby.

is no special preparation, you can eat in and it is completely painless.

Just inside your hipbone is a picture of dem bones, them bones, dem dry-bones.

appear underneath that cup-
enter that tunnel of the bridge-
position your foot into the water-

…and how many days has it been.

When they knocked
on the door it apparently became

an excuse to leave,
following that quiescent devience,
vicious but localized,
those scientists found nothing that would make the difference

for several years.

to appear, accompanied
characterized by emotion

the face of motivation and romance takes over
hindering what we really are seeing

and if the sun sets, sunsets, and the sun is setting over her house, birds might call but mostly they wane;

especially when associated with the operas.

can’t stand up

guaranteed to hellos swept up by tomorrow’s goodnights
and missing frantically what was there
and is now lost into parts of my mind, somehow.

seeping back out into betweens and origins.

you stood there asking me to come in
i find myself asking to come in
a change

hello.

often times here i find myself coming in with no way to let myself out

to multifarious occurrences

i wake this morning, expecting.
getting to know myself with a prodding kind of action

with a stick
with a metaphor
with an obsequious gourd

i am submissive to each beat of my heart

the first appearance is similar to the first appearance: a deception.
a diminutive talking bird is quickly shifted from below
one to another
of three cups.

i am trying to guess the location from a distance
avoiding control

this is the shell game.

and occurrences are happening where i find myself slipping
some might say it is the banana peel on the sidewalk
pealing. loud. harmonious.

some might find a banana in the parking lot
some might see a banana in a dream
some might eat a banana

Undoubtedly, you will eventually dream about bananas.

the futon mattress ended up in the hallway
you left behind the system for supporting my tendencies to cut off my hair
walked home inside of my jacket, a jacket your jacket.

i am pretty sure that it was frigid in temperature.

it laid there for a week in some kind of memorial to the end of frequencies
ending of twins and seized catastrophes
a reason to break away and desire.

it happened like this

i woke up after
those ghosts went to Denny’s
in a black sports car

coincidence was you lost and I drank too much
and thinking of her behind that four-foot thick glass wall
you were lucid and asleep at the wheel

and it happens like this

one day you wake up and realize that your confidence has been disintegrated,
split the hive in two parts:

one for you to hide in
the other to give to the world
out of insecurity

and it began like this

went bowling and ate her cupcakes with bunnies on them,
frosted and magic
tricks swarming about
through cult like rituals behind curtains of priests.

cult
cultish
cultish-ness
cult-like
venerable

behaviors forsaken for a teenage boy that I have become.

and it really happened like this

I woke up after eating cupcakes covered in pink frosting
and bunnies were stabbed into the top
went to sleep thinking that I had done it
and woke up thinking about those regrets of the time previous to now.

every moment tries to synch itself
into a bag that you keep hidden behind your dresser
you think nobody knows about that, but I do.

i keep it there too.

and it really happens like this

a box full of rubberized emotions

not bouncing
but full of color,
float out into that place you try to find solace in

they infiltrate, it really is their job.

to become that threshold you keep close to the organ
it keeps you alive.

and I have been thinking of bees and of my separation from my spleen
and it was such a long time ago

sometimes it punches through, giving you a glimpse of what you once thought of how cakes should taste when you wake up at 2:30 in the morning looking for that one thing that will fulfill you.

to keep you from thinking about how lonely it is here without appliances.

of dishwashers
of toasters and whining refrigerators

and i wake up today to find that those cupcakes have disintegrated

pool of milk
i spilled that night when you were rupturing

and i wake up today to the howling of that dog
and I wake up this day and go back to sleep
and I wake up holding my breadth for something warm,

that’s when the sun peaks in.

light enters and you find yourself standing in a parking lot,
getting away from the parking lot,
forsaking the parking lot,

realizing that your problems will never be found in the parking lot,
never being solved in the parking lot.

the truck drives up to you standing there.
sometimes it leaves you a cake for your birthday,
mostly it just ignores why you are standing in a parking lot with your pants around your ankles.

i wake up with a terrible hangover because i ate too much sugar that a rabbit gave me in the form of a cupcake from Japan translating itself into the water. i remember that incident when i felt uncomfortable standing in your yard, grass around my bare feet and lost at a stop light. it is lamentable, at best, when you are staring at an ocean water sized abyss, stopping you, crossing you, letting you find your spleen.

in the last year

dioramas have been constructed
erected in rooms
to close to get a good look at.
and we grew up, finding ourselves as adults once again
rode the bus
flew in planes and made plans for tattoos
burned down the house
remade the house
bought new appliances
found your name in a 12 year old electronic posting
watched you sleep, held your head
wanted to sleep in your life
moved out on a thanksgiving
fell asleep for three weeks and missed the birth of Jesus
took another plane home, wincing at what i said
watched them walk away,
dispersed into new lands
saw her wash away the world
walked away,
the sun shone to my side.

in the last year

went to the store,
bought McIntosh apples
watched them rot in a monumentalizing action
paid my rent late
saw my last fleeting moment
ran around in the rain
threw a baseball to you at midnight
rode in a cab as you fell asleep drunk
walked you home
got some rocks from Texas in the mail
looked into eyes that I never could before
feel asleep on the plane
flew over your house, over the water and into a mountain
rolled down a hill
locked my keys in the car
and met you for the first time
mowed the lawn with an old machine
planted flowers in old soil that never grew
left my apartment
and drove north in a pickup on the first sunny day
you wore red boots, I wore a sweater.

and sometimes we find ourselves staring out into a landscape
scooped up by the darkness that is lit by the moon at night
and sometimes we prolong our futures based on attempting to live

lining up outside my door
checking to see if my wallet is there
habitually disrupting the day
wandering in and out of nature

I’m at the grocery store again, trying.

ultimately too difficult to be here alone

it’s amazing how lonely the grocery store is when you are uninhabited, without and forgotten.