My Chest is Alive

My Chest is Alive
by dan raphael
when you take off your clothes and no ones there
you take off your skin to find the sky among the urban sprawl
of inter-body communications and accumulation
edifices without doors or windows, a city too crowded to dance in,
rhythm without continuity, the rain randomly distributed, is it patronage or intent
the sun refuses to come in from the top, not knocking on the doors it pours through,
a light between molecules, a heat on the back of the tongue, imagination supplies the savory
when i stopped wearing fur and tried covering myself with a bed sheet
people wanted to read or write on a wall safe for graffiti
when the only news we got was by watching tvs in store windows
or a voice interrupted the radio in the strangers car I was huddled in the back seat of,
told to stay quiet and keep my eyes closed
a convertible without windows on a road that moved without us
i paint with light, i dig with varnished bones,
ive hypnotized tree branches to believe theyre metal and receive the full spectrum of infotainment
tree time bird weight water you can use like twine
i took a shower without undressing then realized i was too big for the dryer
i went outside where people crossed the street to remain in sunlight
i don’t look at clouds for the same reason i avoid mirrors: the last time
i predicted the weather in cities around the world for 10 hours
before my mouth went to sleep from exhaustion
my closet is full of maps on clothes hanger
my handwriting is horrible cause until i was seven all i could write was maps,
from towns to planets, anatomical maps, genetic, rhetorical, the map of this chairs 125 years
alphabets are tire tracks, footprints on river bottoms, the warning label inside smoke
to tell you of my day i give you a shirt. to celebrate i roll my chest in ink
and wrap it with recycled handmade paper. if youre quiet you’ll hear the off-gassings music

0 thoughts on “My Chest is Alive

  1. Powerful pictorialization and insight…initiate me into this Brotherhood of the traveling boxers if there is one. This is one of those pieces that could go fiction or poetry (with a different break-up of lines etc.). It made an impact on me like a million megaton asteroid filled with flowers, daiquiris, and sexy baristas plowing thru my precognitions terra firma. Smooth and attractive! Thanks Senor Raphael!

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