Thursday, April 18, 2013

Faved! Anis Mojgani's My Library Has 17 Books

I wore a shrine to you above my head for so many years
it hung like a heavy hat
and sparkled like a Hindu god

my face is a bicycle riding downhill
lick me with your headlight
I will forget my helmet at home
break my femurs upon your front fender

I am filled with so much hip hop
my elbow rhymes with brick wall

my brick wall beatboxed
and my elbow said back:
I place two pancakes upon two plates
when I cut them back and forth the porcelain breaks

I was never a broken man
but I too know how to pick the pieces up
some days the pieces are all teeth pulled from the mouths of children
other times they are flowers searching simply for a fist
books searching for a shelf

I have carved shelves out of my heart
to try and bring an order to things
all it did was make space

the floor of my bedroom is a junkyard
it is filled with the myth of a giant sized snake
this snake wraps himself around the whole earth
some days I am a god of thunder lifting cats
some days I walk nine paces
turn and fall
walk nine paces turn and fall
I die every single time

I know that peace can come on a popsicle stick
and some ceilings are prayers to mustangs
staring into the chandelier’s muscles
I have begged for its candles to carry me out of some of these rooms
saw the eyebrows of God in furniture

some furniture looks at you like it’s disappointed
some chairs stare like they are still proud of what you are

some women’s legs are built like confessionals
and some confessionals are built like the bows of burning boats
speaking into both my body caught fire like everything else

the whistle of the train train is a hospital
it is ebbs with the sounds of dying and fixing
it turns every wheel inside of me
into a bonnet
turns every wheel into splinters

my belly is filled with cedar wood
there is sawdust still on the floor of my love
I have been sweeping it up for so many days of my life
but each day I sweep up a little bit more
one day my floor will be clean

I clench my hands into fists in case I run into myself
I have something I want to give him
I won’t know what it is until he is standing before me

I was eight years old the first time I learned to breakdance
on the floor of Angela’s bohemian loft
Little Ray taught me the centipede
he was 13 and had a skateboard
he was a lighthouse
a tower
he dropped the d
and came back up with an extra o

I have taken the bones out of my body
and carved temples from them
look under my nails
there is holy text in there
I do not know what it says
but some hours are spent
doing nothing but staring at the tips of my fingers

hold a mirror up to what I once was
you would see only guitar strings shimmering in the light

when I snaked my body like the river
I didn’t even need the music to play
I used the floorboards as the beat
the adults were in the other room
I stood up
dirt on my shirt
my teeth had been replaced with bits of gold
an old man held me in a pan
ran water over my bones
and from under the dirt of his palms
how I shone
how I shone

0 poetic mutterings: