My Soul

My Soul
by Reed Posey

My Soul My Soul
Balloon up under my skin
Attacking sharks of sex gas
Angel feather touch of crass poesy
And mechanical in form of popular expression

A lock of hair with a trace of ghost
A piece of the one true cross
A hole in a pair of shoes
A wasted pledge

America guessed it first
Maybe Europe will be next

Dear World
I ate the last plum of breakfast
I drank the last jizm of consciousness
I shot JR
I shot JFK
I am The Lone Gunman
I am The Unknown Soldier
I am The Riddle of The Sphinx
I am The New York City street
I am The Son of Sam
I am The Lindberg Baby
I am The Spirit of St. Louis
I am The Ghost of Bobby Duncan
I am The Last Best Chance
I am The Bay of Pigs
I am The Hydrogen Bomb
I am Fidel Castro and His Beard

I mashed the Dreams from the head of a baby who was me
I keep working for the sake of working
There is no attainable goal in sight
There are no dollars to be had from this
There are no beautiful girls who want to be mine from this

My grandparents are disappointed
My tomatoes are rotting on the vine
For everyone to see

My soaked lovers evaporate
Memories dissolve with sheets into the wash

My employers undercompensate
My potential goes unfulfilled at the data entry center

When will the pubic beard of the abyss offer up something more substantial?
When will the Dervishes instinctively twirl at my front door?

When will my one true love
Who is my one true love (one of only a very few)
Show her true self to me
Let down her guard
And give up talking business?

When will the carpet stains
Of my own mental imagery
Clean themselves and let me get on with it?

I’m trying to understand
I’m trying to see it your way
But not too many things make sense
When you say them with too much of me in your mouth
Drained and Heavy

Feb. 2001

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