Maybe I’m a bad kid, I dunno. I wrote my mom a Flarf poem for Mother’s Day.
Pink Bats
A mother casts her dreams into the sea.
A mother serves sugar.
A mother’s love determines how
a vase of flowers in a window frames
a villanelle.
Behold!
close your eyes–
see
from the distance of our separation,
like fairies in a tale
who are grand,
happiness can also be haunting.
Happiness, like a sunny day,
like most things, comes
from far away.
My darling
mother,
your children
have no fear,
are all in one
beautifully rushing glass.
How can you know
How to be a mother without
Hubble-Scopes?
I want to say
I could give the world.
I can’t.
I’ve lived a life of fantasy and terror.
Within your heart,
put sunshine.
Maybe more than sunshine?
Maybe a Snowdrift?
An Anchor?
Mere happiness? The song I’m singing,
not my contentiousness,
mirrors your love
screaming, screaming, screaming
be friends with
the sky
and the gardeners.
Home
is the place where
eyes in the back of heads
make memories
marooned
all day
taken
by the May sea.
The fairy tales
of grown children find
understanding
throughout the years,
making
no difference in
your love.
No.
Not long ago I,
without you, strained
to be like leaves upon the wind.
Weep, Weep,
my mother,
and feel the fortune of the years
you have.
Dream, dream
like the Arizona sun.
