the beach was littered with red that night
near the end of September
the sun was mourning the end of its reign
the fact that he’s so blazing here year-round
was little consolation
he gave himself a pity party
I just remained and enjoyed the constellations
I hope to see the blue deep
before I leave this world
have it be real
not a dream
have my ears echo from
all the calls of the sea
feel content when I taste
the foam like cream
I wonder if the Hulk ever hit his mother.
Did he ever graze her cheek
with his massive green fist so fast,
so hard, she couldn’t speak?
Throw her out of his room,
out the window, out of the house?
And I wonder if when he returned to normal,
did he recognize her scars, her hurt.
I bet he couldn’t remember–like him.
Darts his eyes from the display of pain.
Doesn’t move when she flinches away.
Doesn’t recognize the tears
because he can’t remain.
And I wonder if Stan Lee understands
what it really means to love the Hulk?
To stand in his way regardless.
The supernatural drive to help him stay calm,
despite the horror, despite the harm.
The relentless love at stake…
all the tender, godforsaken love it takes.
been so long sometimes I forget the color of your hair
miss the way you meandered through our home
much like those ghosts with tambourines around
their ankles and faraway thoughts in the air
been so long sometimes I forget the way you cared
miss the vision of you with gold around your neck
much like those spirits with the sun at their backs
their warmth and faraway peace in their prayers
gave a gorilla a teacup and he crumbled it before
I could reach out, I tried my best not to cry
over that ancient porcelain
I tried again and it happened over and over until
the floor was covered with shards of my past
went to bed perplexed that my praise didn’t
motivate him enough to care to keep them
or at least to want to make me happy
rested my head upon my aged pillow
among the dust, among the plaster
dreamt of gorillas with their array of fractured teacups
and their damned gigantic buckets of laughter
woke up and there was doom, so much
it was like I was drinking it from a cup
perhaps it’s because I dreamt of those black
ribbons that like to get tangled in my hair
that damned pretentious silk
I feel them now but I have to forage for
those twisted inky feminine cords
don’t you see them
you have to see them I swear
you insist they aren’t even there
I know I must give up my lost search
not question this pain on earth
long to walk without a step
breathe but not take a breath
just be and not let go yet
on this day of raindrops on our lips
wishing on vanishing rainbows
you told me you were happy it was gone
cause it demanded too much attention
but its departure left me useless
I’ll miss the purple clouds
and the pelicans floating
the horizon and the nodding sun
I’ll miss this feeling
that I don’t want to leave
those red butterflies take me back to the time when
those annoying crickets lulled me to sleep
dreamt I was barefoot on the gravel
running to that abandoned church
where those lost souls would be baptized
stood up high to pretend to speak
but I knew I wasn’t worthy
running back to the little, green house
the gravel biting at my soles
I whimpered and looked back –
you ran and didn’t even feel the rocks
you came laughing back,
your feet untouched
top of the palm hunched like a spent witch
fallen over her broom, its thick green
hair barely tossed by the wind.
her brown limbs lacking oxygen,
left her tattered luggage stuck in the mud.
that abandonment makes me think of
all those stories of hate you wrote
thinking it would make me want to
turn the page, but I tossed your book into
the water. and it makes me wonder
how spoiled creatures can hold so much
ugly and suffering, yet leave it
displayed out for the offering.
makes me want to cut the witch down,
rid my sight of vile palms that
make me think of so much pain.
makes me wish I never followed you
down this beguiling path of eternal
sunshine and hidden rains.
makes me wish you knew me before this.