Dan Raphael


Life Becomes Red Metal

     
     life becomes red metal driving gears through 
     what space i was embracing like a garden at 35 below 
     all light amplified like 60 watts in a doorless honda 
     megabass inverting the brain through ear-drum-head-sets, 
     	    plugged to plunge, 
     who with six-string fangs bared on the waterside, 
           water pictures of my melting face, 
     i am the skyline of overburdened mammals-- 
     
     All hail Rodentia, the statue of liberty 
     	a giant carnivorous rat:
                                send me your dreams, 
             your callow optimism writhing to be sedated, 
             i can't control my inner lobbyist with 
          what dangling carrot replacing magnetism with brand loyalty 
     so i spiral against the car i don't have, 
           drool through the store windows 
          and fill the shop with the blinding white phosphor of my need 
                   then teleport home, turning wrong 
                       across the imperfection of inner space:
                                      i've examined myself so long and intensely 
     i don't know how to leave. 
                                  i will call this place home 
     even if i've never seen it before.
     my name is rusted metal bicycle spear, ambidextrous light 
     pouring molten sugar where my face could wish 
     congealing like 4 dimensional tv stuck in maynard's pocket 
     	or the apocalyptic bouffants seldom seen 
      		 unwhite, unbooted,, 
                           falls upon the ear of a canyon
     where car parts have returned to die, 
     an orchestral array of buffalo horns 
     rumbling like synthesized tubas mating with cryogenic piccolos
     
     red doorway    red shoes    red ink
     drying into fluorescent windshield twisted like bracelets 
     on now fashionable robot-trees 
                                     unfurl into travel trailers 
     sheened with hallucinogenic security 
     sucking the air out of itself 
     
                                     so skin stops listening to bones and veins 
     and goes directly to surgery:
                                     i want my flesh to be one continuous polymer, 
     my clothes are holograms i lease 
     like the wireless uplink i traded growth hormones for
     
                    "he'd do anything to get back his stolen liver"
     
     
     i am meditating on my heart, visualizing it becoming solid 
     around me;  the pumping blood is stellar flux, the buddha nature, 
     	   high prices eagerly paid for instant samsara:
                                                     we have nothing to fear 
     but total ignorance,   sweet dreams,   spontaneous combustion 
     as the inner crystals are shattered by what lack of music 
     resonating with the millions of cubic zircon hearts 
     dangling between the teeth,  between knee flex crunches 
     pop into the air like deep-fried mosquitoes subliminal thunder
     wind goes rhizome to thread through anything,
                                                      dredging the river, 
                                                    harvests the sky, 
     opening the vertical blinds of old forests,
                                   low-developing cheekbone plateau 
             so shale, so rice, so intimate 
     with that mail order karma swooping like a hungry parachute
                this prairie should be mathematically sinuous; 
                       the rain is pure algebra, 
              the grass is talking about numbers, 
                       mice breathe by chewing
                                                 then metal comes out of hibernation             
     thundering a rainbow of dust 
                                           that itches so bad nature gets distracted  
     letting man escape into the world.


Copyright © 1996 Dan Raphael

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