Ten Poems || Seth Leeper

 
 from the ether
 
when i look
into the ether
 
and pull out
marshmallow clouds
 
i detach
my rubber exterior
 
and
 
apply them
to my syrupy middle
 
i drizzle over
canopies concealing
 
bikini clad adonises
flexing limp wrists                     emitting
 
siren songs
to passing strangers
 
here             where the parade rains
the sidewalk ends        and
 
bleary eyed beautiful beasts
run for cover
 
here             is where i break
into a thousand pieces      ready
 
to hitch rides                    on the soles
of indifferent shoes                    to render myself
                          omnipotent

 
resistance in asymmetry
 
every time i see
your rhombal head
my irregular center
 
is stimulated to produce
baby decagons sprinting
across lawns on hind legs
 
reaching out for spheres
with furry prickly fingers
craving to be circles
yet settling for serrated edges
 
that poke and prod
at the extremes
of our conscious thoughts
 
so we tear down our walls
release the latch to scurry into
those far reaches of the void
 
until we come to the inevitable
dead end which is simply
an infinite stretch   of absence
 
we carved out
inside our aortas
to pump and pulse
against the threat    of erasure
 
 
water on cement
 
sometimes i dig
into my vaults
just to find
more rust
on spoiled pipes
 
dingy orange brown
water leaking
onto freshly
sprinklered cement
 
and when I spray
the residue
of what escaped
its spherical
hiding place
 
on the side
of a brain
suppressed
beneath
layers of
sticky
membrane
 
i can see through
the globular
glass screen
that encases
these vaults
 
the vivid
impact of water
on mundane
cement
 
and how clear
waste pigments
can be
when fanned into
 
a many tiered horizon
through the
soft force
of a nautical tool
 
 
​well done

if i pour your colors
into this ceramic dish
 
i can mix them
with my hands
 
feel the smoky puffing
of their indignation
 
rolling across
my fingers
 
would you be zebra striped
and purple or just
 
a ton of spirals
in kaleidoscopic vividness
 
i know which
I secretly hope to find
 
but perhaps
i better let you
 
choose your own
shapeshifter cookiecutter
 
so when the irons are cast
and the oven finally on
 
you’ll fill an even form
and we’ll see at last
 
how truly saturated
you’ve always been
 
 
is my subtext blaring enough for you to extract this image

our arms extended
i place a floppy polaroid
 
into your clenched fist and
bite down hard on your bottom lip
 
my tongue extracting your dna
while i lay my heavy handed hands
 
all over your backside
and look
 
here comes a cloud
with its own thought bubble
 
and a torrent of complaints
ready to douse us
 
in every word we said
we’d never say to each other
 
but you were never real until
i laid eyes on you
 
i mean it
that hot easter sunday
 
i salsaed into your furry face
and i placed
 
my lashes
my pupils
 
my irises
my expressive eyebrows
on your shoulder
 
the polyblend fibers
from your lucky tee
 
left me completely dehydrated
and i will double down on that
 
every time you challenge me
so let’s extract our limbs and
 
take back our lips and
i will leave you here
 
perched atop
this thought bubble drifting
 
over dolores and
when you remember again
 
how much you miss
the weight of
 
my heavy handed hands
on your backside
 
i’ll already be the sun
 
 
zeus wears medusa hair
 
to you
he’s just
another
baby factory
 
and we were
all birthed
from his loins
 
can you imagine it
 
yes
 
he has two
droopy tits
to match
 
the indifference
of his lower lip
 
and his stony
eyed stare and
 
yes
 
we all turn
to stone
when he
gazes in
our direction
 
but oh
 
what a trip it was
on the way here
 
casting spells
on some mountain
in the desert
 
 
with fires burning
to announce our arrival
to the gods
 
who are the guardians
of the void and
 
they asked us
to take a nap and
 
kiss their palms
upon waking
 
for what is gratitude
but blood from a wrist
 
and what is waking
but dreaming
we’re all dead

​
spiders on mars
 
i almost threw up
a little
 
just thinking
of the sinkhole
 
mansized
like a spider
 
unable to
lay eggs
 
as if you liked
your toast with milk
 
but you’re allergic
to nuts
 
so i’ll have to ring out
the tie dye shirt
 
you left on my lawn
and just hope for the best
 
as if the best
were here
 
and we were
on mars
 
wishing we were
on venus
 
but that spacesuit
fit like a glove
 
so i guess we’ll have to go to Kmart
and exchange it
 
for a pair of rubber boots
we can ice skate in
 
so he can cover up
his nipples
 
in time
to escape
 
the watchful
eyes of lobotomists
 
and be called
indecent
 

inherent callous
 
could it be
the void is just
this little rant
 
some petulant guy
made up one day
when he was done
contemplating the stars
 
like there’s this
inherent callousness
underwriting all of this
 
like god is
a catty gay man
who can’t get enough
dusti
 
bonge or springfield
missouri
 
just another excuse
for a road trip
to arrive at
our cliche ages
 
isn’t every story a
coming of age story
 
another red herring
to follow to wonderland
 
yet another furry
leading us astray
down
 
piss scented alleyways
and bargain bins
at bloomingdale’s
 
through
fingerprint stained mirrors
turning into
twirling tunnels
 
which is another way
of saying
we’ve been sucked
back into
the void
 
 
facades of flesh
 
i’m writing to tell you
we’re all dead
in the hands of
the living
 
palms open
stigmata
arms up
 
Insert
your token
into the
arcade machine
 
by which
i mean the
arcane devices
 
with which
we will bind
ourselves here
 
to this post
and exhale
steam
 
into the pulsing
electric shocks
of the animus
 
we are the light
that catches
to illuminate
 
the palm lines
that were once
dormant cracks in
facades of flesh
 
 
last call
 
you could call it
a void
an absence
so fullI
 
it leaves you
sausaging
at the seams
just ready to
deflate
like a
hippopotamus
 
call it a
comeback
come-on
the size of
sweaty jeans and
greasy hair
 
a lit match
in his back pocket
just ready to cum
 
burst forth
like atlantis
an urchin
in a tortoise shell
like you never
saw it coming
 
you should call him
in the morning
tell him
i’ve been thinking about
bed stuy
fish fry and all the
bug stuff
that keeps his
border collie
up at night
ravenous
just thinking
of checkers
 
if you’d only
check in
on him
every once
in a while like a
good mother
earth mother
who prefers
to live
in the sea
can you
say carmel
 
redonda
rhododendron
bushwhacked somehow
into thinking
all of this
was 11:11
but we don’t
have time for
herbivores
who wear
tight dresses and
smoke diesel fuels
so
we’ll just
have to
call it