ok so, this thing
um ok
At my door there was a knock and I opened it
and my neighbor said There is someone at the front door for you
so I walked down the three flights of stairs to the front door
and I opened that too. In front of me was a policeman.
He said Hello. He said May I come in it is cold out.
I am pretty sure he was telling the truth
because there was a foot of snow standing on top of him.
I said Ok. I said What is this about officer.
He said I’ll ask the questions here and I told him
that if he was going to persist in that attitude he could march himself
back out into the cold and stay there until he froze to death.
He said he was sorry. It seemed like he meant it. He said
Excuse me. He said Earlier today
I was in the bathroom. It does not matter which one
he said. He said that as soon as he finished up his business
several ghosts burst into the room. Ghosts! I said.
Ghosts he said. He said I said to them Disperse ghosts!
This bathroom is no place for you! I said What happened next?
He said that it turned out they were not ghosts at all
but men with sheets over their heads
clutching automatic weapons in their sad little hands,
weapons that glistened with a need to tear open some chests
and let a little light into our hearts. He said
I said What do you want? And they all just started weeping.
I said Weeping? The policeman said Weeping. I said to him
that I too have at times felt so overwhelmed by the world
that I wanted to cover my head in a sheet and just weep
and weep and weep until the whole world drowned
and people lived on boats and invented new ways of fishing
that used grenades or some other form of kindness,
but I have never in my life tried to shoot someone in the chest over it.
The policeman confided to me that the world was full
of things we could not conceive of. He said that mystery lurked
around every corner, and that the only successful way to live
was to embrace that mystery. Then he shot himself in the face
and died. I sat there waiting for the ambulance
for what felt like days.
um ok
At my door there was a knock.
It was my neighbor. My neighbor said
that there was someone downstairs at the front door for me
and so I went downstairs and I opened the door
where I found a policeman standing there
with about a foot of snow piled on top of him.
He said Hello. He said May I come in it is cold out.
I am pretty sure he was telling the truth. What is this about
I said to him. He told me that he was on his way home
after a busy day of upholding the law
when he’d gotten reports of ghosts doing inappropriate things.
He said Sir, have you seen any ghosts today. I said Sort of.
I said Earlier today I was in the bathroom. I said It doesn’t matter
which one. As I was finishing up my business I said
I became surrounded by ghosts. How many ghosts he said
I said About a dozen or so and he wrote that down I think.
I said Anyway. I said I said to them Disperse ghosts!
This bathroom is no place for you! He said Then what happened
and I told him to quit interrupting. I said They just sort of stood there for a bit
and moaned. As I went to go dry my hands
they tore off their sheets to reveal that they were not ghosts at all
but grown men with assault rifles in their hands
and tears in their eyes. Did they say what they wanted he asked me
and I told him that they said they were searching for the purest expression
of ultimate sadness. He said With assault rifles? I said I know right?
So I said I asked them Why the assault rifles? And they told me
that they were planning on using these rifles
to open up our heads and let a little light
into our hearts. He said What happened next?
I said Next they started weeping. The policeman said Weeping?
Weeping I said. They started weeping and I left. I told him
that I found the whole situation quite confusing. I said
that I too have at times felt so overwhelmed by the world
that I wanted to cover my head in a sheet and just weep
and weep and weep until the whole world drowned
and people lived on boats and invented new ways of fishing
that used grenades or some other form of kindness,
but I have never in my life tried to shoot someone in the face over it.
And furthermore I added The face and the heart are not in the same location
They are not even close I said. The policeman agreed.
He told me that the world was full of all sorts of things
we could not possibly conceive of. He said that mystery lurked
around every corner, and that the only successful way to live
was to embrace that mystery. He said his investigations
had taught him that much at least. Then he shot himself in the face
and died. I sat there waiting for the ambulance
for what felt like days.
the night is long and difficult
The best we can hope for is to just stab at the dark
and hope that we cut ourselves a doorway
into some sort of feeling
that keeps us alive for a moment longer
is what the policeman told me. He was standing
at the door. He told me he was investigating ghosts.
There had been he said Reports of ghosts in the area
upsetting the general sensibilities
regarding life and death. The populace he told me
Was awful delicate. Had I he wanted to know
Seen any ghosts lately. I said Yes. He said Where.
I said Out the window, frequently moaning or singing,
bearing witness to the world like a studio audience
or a bunch of ghosts. I asked him if he had seen any ghosts.
Once he said he was in the bathroom.
It doesn’t matter which one he said .
As he came out of the bathroom stall he was surrounded
on all sides by what appeared to be ghosts. He said he called out
Disperse ghosts! This bathroom is no place for you! I said
What happened next. He said The world
is a vast and terrifying piece of excitement
given often to the production of a hollow pit
in the very center of your being. I told the policeman
that although I myself have frequently felt
that the world was covered in a vast and inescapable darkness
that was slowly suffocating me to death. I told him
that he did not answer my question. He grew quiet
like people grow bones. He told me
that the world was full of all sorts of things
that we could not possibly conceive of. He said that mystery lurked
around every corner, and that the only successful way to live
was to embrace that mystery. Then he shot himself in the face
and died. I sat there waiting for the ambulance
for what felt like days.
Who knows. This may end up being the only record of this poem. I do not even know. But so yeah. There is this now I guess.
1 comment:
This is an awesome poem, Sasha. You are on a roll.
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