Friday, January 21, 2011

surreal

spencer and i laying on hospital beds as k ultrasounds us. our organs aliens on the screen. my beating heart a small mouth opening, closing.

watching the fighter, feeling we knew those people, those voices.

Every thing

Where everything spills over walls, sidewalks.

Animals don't exist only as domestics in homes or wild. In zoos, barnyards, meat farms.
Everywhere roaming. 

People don't wash only in the privacy of home bathrooms. But at geysers pumped by hand outside one's home, or even one's internet cafe--toothbrushes tucked behind pieces of wire there at the spigot--while below, goats mingle--their small droppings.

Clothes are cleaned in the same water fish swim in, water buffalo drink from, cows and people wash in.

Vendors spread their fruit on the sidewalks by mounds of garbage, cow patties, buthcher stalls.