God David to His Son by Barrett White

Monday, December 3, 2012

________________________________________________

Marco, son of David, enter stage glasnost you are
a mobile suit Gundam son you are an industrial band
from the Netherlands named kleinen Kirschbaum
all your songs are about George Washington the sky will rain scythes
shed from the mouth of a ventriloquist dragon you must slay it
kill it before it kills you do as I say my word is my
skyscraper I am hosing down the doll faces with bleach
on the scabby shoreline where you and me son will fly
kites of inflated lungs and make gulls explode w/ 4 wheel drive
look in the glove compartment there, there is a book
which only reads “every action is contrived” dog ear those pages
son Marco inheritor of highlighter phallus you have much
to learn like barcode removal and grenade-hugging you be
here I host this level father of your characteristic why think
numbers are so specific a few in my hand is 4-5 and
your gift is the hypothetical integer go out for a pass
into the mist and shout your guess as to what I throw
you will know my toss shattered in the garble creep-calling
“David-son, young Marco -glass…” listen for the hairline fracture
that is my signal break your hands on it breed like a concrete
flower magnify your seed in a display case the moving image
is a miracle see the horse run brambled by frames
the wood of them built our family tree you see things like this
don’t grow up from the ground your dear mother is a dirt clod
some three months I come to that decision locked beneath
a municipal pool your legs son with all those other legs son
twitch my dreams with sterile pinch of take the earth for
a gossamer balloon the sink filter gnarled with food
when I die in my skull you will find an architecture
a polygon for your continuation Narcissus the conjoined twin
my corpse will emit low frequency sounds until burned
you have known what to do with the ashes since birth
every word you have spoken smuts the incantation more Marc
oh son stage glasnost of David come build the marble ship with me
the hotglue satellite of your star-gagged future, I

_______________________________________________

Blank White lives in Florida. Some of his work can be found at New Wave Vomit, Have U Seen My Whale, Sadcore Dadwave, and others. He blogs at nyquilchug.blogspot.com.

© 2012 – 2013, Metazen.

Share and Enjoy:
  • Print
  • Digg
  • Sphinn
  • del.icio.us
  • Facebook
  • Mixx
  • Google Bookmarks
  • FriendFeed
  • Technorati

Related posts:

  1. The Jewelry Party by David Backer
  2. My Poetry Submission by David Mueul
  3. Three Poems by David Ruekberg
  4. Perforated Edges by Barrett White
  5. Lights in the Window by David Klose

Comments are closed.