ocean

i was trying to not caught up
another blue jay. they fight
over bird feeders in my stomach.
once i heard the ocean's name
in the breaking of a bone. 
typhoon. turgid river.
the monster with hooks for eyes.
i tell you about how my body 
was made into a bay. anchors. gulls.
men with too many legs. let me off
on this stop. trains going centipede
all through the night. when i see
the future it arrives like chocolate shavings.
melt in my hands. smear the room.
rotten oranges with golden seeds.
a skull found me to say, 
"put the fire down." i've burned little libraries
in my sleep. i've opened a box of cereal
to release a flock of moths. the bat
who flickers from tree to tree.
today i could drown in a thimble.
a bird bath. an ocean is really 
whatever you could die inside of.
ocean mouth. ocean spoon. ocean
father. trust me i would love
to know how to swim. on my back.
shaving my head & letting go 
of my jellyfish hair. a kraken waiting
inside a white refrigerator egg. 
his eyes, cyclones. stirring a bowl 
of dead birds. i cannot see the bottom.
studies of staircases. belly of swords.
please do not give up on me.
the payphone at the end of time rings
& i pick up to hear the ocean ask,
"can you walk home tonight?"
i shake my head. water through 
the windows. voice of thick cord 
& mother stingrays.