Magician’s Trick

First, the finding of the cloth:
 something to cling to
Then, the pulling, wondering:
 what will it lead to?
Then, an acceptance of its never–end
 and the assured fashioning
 clothes from its threads


Forgive my bluntness
 when I insist
I'm eternal and wise as the universe
In perceiving you
I see you in me

There is my heart, in you
You, flapping around,
 doing your own thing
When shall we tea in the kitchen?
 heart to heart


Once sad refrain of acquiescence
Then rebellious No and licentious Yes
I cannot say which one’s correct
and am glad to have had my say of it


No. Peas will not replace
this strange desire to add capers
to my already quite exotic Indian stew
God, do I have to go over this
 with myself again?
And Live
Get that which I happen to want?
There even ain’t no shame in it, for shame!
Jeez, just go to the grocery store where
 they have a whole shelf of them — 2 kinds
And don’t wait for tommorrow’s regular
 beautiful shopping; the desire is for them now
And shit if this ain’t the first day
 of spring and bare feet
 and the children out playing
 and Terra out happy despite
 a benign cancer near her stomach bulging
  and red in her eye
 and joy to hear the birds chirp along
 to Flaming Lips’ Fight Test
 as Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
As I still feel bad for not working
 and wonder when I will give it up
 like it’s inevitable
Marching past the children echoing Yoshimi’s
 battle cry, their young souls
 shaming my reluctance to fully embrace
 my capers for all I know
Past the teenagers hanging out
 fresh in courage, laughing smiles
 at one another as they embrace
 awkward, vulnerable, vibrant youth
I taste one
 salty; almost grimmacingly bitter
How many capers? How many capers?
1, 2, 3
Fuck it. Stop counting. Keep going.
My intuition will tell me
And if I don’t just cover it with ’em
Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf.
Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf?
Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf.
You will need a smidge more rice.
Really. OK.

I load up my plate up
hear my roommate in his bedroom
loitering, lounging, laughing with his fiancée
as I go out to witness the dusk of a beautiful day
and the slightest dusting of spring
 tears have anointed my table
I wipe the seat and as I eat
 any evidence of wet is vapors
And, no, those capers are not bitter tasting
 they fit perfect, well: smashing
and, hmm, maybe not enough rice
 ah, no, just just enough
I needn’t have thought