a new theory / practice 

i don't believe in evolution.
it takes too long. i can't wait
another centruy for these bones
to make a new monster.
where are my sharp teeth? where is
my echolocation? my telekinesis?
i'm american which means 
i don't believe in patience
or fossils unless they're fuel.
i want my traits
now. a sixth finger. a veiny wing.
time is a hunger kitchen.
each day i wake up 
to morphed canaries. wings 
the size of great windows
& beaks curving & thinning 
& twisting. they have 
more & more ways to feed.
soon their hearts are gems
& then their eyes are cameras
sending images to god.
my lips fall off & i recieve
a crocodile snout. 
my knees turn backwards
like a horse's back legs.
see, who needs to wait 
a hundred years--a thousand years. 
rocks are vessels of lies.
i am told humans are getting taller.
we used to be a foot or so shorter 
which is why all the doorways 
in old houses seem tiny. 
we are taking too long.
tomorrow i will wake up
the size of a house.
everyone will look at me
& see my thick leg hair 
& my thumbs. i will lay down
& the canaries will sing pop songs
word for word & the straycats 
will walk on their hind legs
like they've always wanted.
i am sick of theories. i want to see
tangible change. give me
a sinew to look forward to.
survival of the fittest 
neglects the role of beauty.
i am becoming a monument 
or a statue. the birds want to be
marionettes. none of us
want to die. tomorrow is another 
hundred or so years away.
i can't sleep. i want to watch
my skin re-arrange itself.

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