Black Satellite

The black satellite is buzzing (in my mind)

and I can't unwind

my corkscrew arms from entanglement;

the estrangement

of my all seeing eye

and how together

we're liken to a blind creation

(so why are we then?)

Just flip-flopping

tip (and table) - topping.

Never stopping

when hands move across my back

thumbs sticking to the bone, the ache

(we're nothing unless we're on the phone)

an everyday conversation



satellite - screaming:

(I fell asleep

on Monday

and dreamt that I was

lying in a bathtub

filled with water



that it reminded me of truth -

and how clear it can be when spoken.

I let my hands drift on the waves

until a crow so black and beautiful

landed on my knee

and I kissed it once with red lips

and offered my hand to it

but talons took a hold of my finger

and beaks bite down - blood everywhere) -

and I wake up with you beside me;

on top of me

and I let my mind drift away again.

I force feed contemplation to myself

like a wayward infant

twisting in someone else's hands -

a black satellite

fighting for freedom

and I think I'll leave you soon;

soon I'll walk away

soon I'll forget everything

and be something new,

and new born (reborn, again)

you'll only have memories of me standing by a window,

of me


because it's the only thing that sticks

like the pain I have in my lungs

or the pain I have

for the ending of something.

Black satellite transmitting me

beyond all of this

(all of you -



and hands)

everything that makes no sense

but I pace on wakeful nights trying to figure it all out

and a phone

is in my hand

but you never see that -

you never see me

when I speak to you


flavored words (and wanting)

just looking

without seeing

and speaking

without being spoken to

The black satellite is buzzing (all around me)

all above

all below

in my hair

and between my toes.