manic poem

the kitchen is a noise. all the forks whirlpool.
spoons kissing wildly. frantically,
i try to hold them all still. 
tornado watch for this area. a storm drill
where we all line up in the hallways. never sit
near windows. they might becomes shark mouths.
i found a dead great white in the creek. 
herons ate away at his face. i asked my father
how a beast so large could have swam our tiny creek
& he explained, "fear can drive an animal
past physical boundaries." our goldfish once flew
like a sparrow. i punch a hole through the wall 
with my phantom hand. do other creatures
feel ashamed for their needs. a gnats buzzing
& thinking, "dear god why do i need so many comforts."
taking each cherrio out one by one to peer through
their peepholes. nothing new nothing new but
the next one could be exactly what i'm looking for.
air conditioning in the morgue. a potted violet
growing roots thick as carrots. i'm ordering 
a back up set of teeth in case mine run out.
i don't know if i should be excited or afraid
of the way my neighbor stares at me. behind his door
i picture a stack of ceramic plates
stacked too high for comfort. anything at all
could knock them down. i try to breath less
to keep them intact. i alone hold the secrets 
to how the world can stay in one piece 
from second to second. it's as easy as
chewing three times before swallowing a doorknob.
i used to stay out past midnight. i used to sleep in
till ten am. put a lid on the sun. now, i say,
"don't worry i am coming." at the first sign of light.
soon it will be winter & i will lay out my tricks
for staving off blizzards. the shark bones 
once floating in the river now in my utensil drawer.
eating with a rib. taste of salt water &
motor boats. i'm out at sea by which i mean
i am trying to navigate while the cardinal directions
vibrate & pull out their pocket knives. 

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