Aaron Galati
Building a Cedar House Out of Twigs

First I'll lead you in real smooth and slow
Lilting you to a dreamy slumber.
I'll blend the lines of truth and lie,
mix the colors to a cold dull grey.
I'll bend the bars of reality, warp the rigid walls
Of society, slowly tear at the wallpaper until
shred of daisies
                        Swim at my feet.
I'll create a virtual space where you can
        Sit and drink tea and be nice and cozy,
                Comfortable as an Incan potato
                        Nestled in the ground.
Train cars are filled with warm air in this world.
The tracks are real smooth and slow
Like liquid travel, wetting your hair, making you
                        STEAM UP inside.
Here there's a palpable link between men
and the walls that men build around them.
Stumbling through my train car, you'll see,
God breathes his sweet mucous whispers
Into the hearts of men and trees alike
And women are the bare-chested prophets of the world
Bring news of screaming children and warm
        Mother's milk.
Their legs open wide and out spill the glorious blessings
                of the Universe.
Now the air's grown rather damp and cold
And the moisture sticks to purpled lungs.
Looking twice, the space is not so big and bold
Ads you were told.
It's cramped like bamboo chains --
Forced and rolled, pushed about in the mud.
You stand up with your head stooped
Knowing these walls really are connected at the base
And you're terrified.

        Don't worry.
        This time the fear passes over.
        I'll take you out, real smooth and slow like
        Cradling you in my slimy arms.

Everyone knows the poem exists in the spaces in
                        Between the words.

<< Back to Issue 8, 2005