The Yarn Of The Rusty Can



I placed a rusty can in a parking lot in Brooklyn
and the lid was still attached by a sepia metal thread,
it made the borough of trees surround that parking lot.

The Ginkgo trees leaned toward it, no longer lonely
for China. The rusted can was a cylinder upon
a parking space for air to disembark.

It enveloped the whole state.
The rusty can was opened and empty,
it did not move or make a sound,
like nothing else in New York.



I WAS A CAMERA LOOKING IN ON RIF



Daddy would scream through the bathroom door
I was supposed to leave it open
or all the locks would be taken off the handles
Doors, when closed, were opened immediately
he couldn't remove them from the hinges
because we did at times have visitors who would use them.

Showers were to be taken military style
as if we were on a ship with limited water supply.
Procedure-- run water to get wet, turn off lather up short rinse
I never felt clean and thus developed skin ailments
forcing me into physicians' care
lie despised doctors as much as doors

This camouflage was my art
The girl with the rash didn't want to leave the office
this waiting room felt comforting,
less controlling then what they referred to as home.
The hives started on my calves
these things I held inside were bursting out through my pores

Children are innocent aren't they?
Anyway she wasn't me, I was sure
because I never had a childhood, have no memory of one
what I remember I must have seen in a silent movie
where I was unable to read what the title cards didn't say
Did she mouth: Give this to me, forsake me, forgive me

The doctor thought that I was that girl. I spoke with her voice
like in a talkie he saw once where a mean teacher is bitten
by a harmless spider, then breaks out in a rash all over her body--
No one knew what caused mine and when it disappeared my body still
felt it, can't wash it off, my promise not to tell
pretend I don't feel, there is holding back to do.


GIRL BECOMES PLACE



by Boni Joi

When I was three I climbed you like a tree daddy
I was only practicing to be taller so I could learn how to dive
divide the molecules of water, sever air from liquid &
undo the importance of this body.

While the other naids bathed near Achelous' calmer shores
wrung out their tendrils into his horny breaks
I loosened into air & swept past trees into hidden pools,
cut through the mountains that act as sentinel to Athens.

daily I swam what seemed as far as the Nile & back again
dove from cliffs negotiating my weightlessness, plunging into
the river gods accommodating body, resting on his moss purple banks
never did I invite an indecent thoughtabout him even when his rims

were swollen with rain. Achelous loved me, he took me on
what is more than I can ask from any man with their compulsions
to betray the ones they're supposed to protect, you're a selfish one daddy,
the great Hippodamas has killed his own daughter.

once you coerced me to jumpin delighted with my mastery,
my ability to tell a story with my body the air, you vouyer
I became what you taught me to be, the girl you could never have
has been hurled off the very cliffs that once supported her spring.

How does it feel now to watch sailors collapse on my shore,
to know I provide sea shade for gods like Neptune, to see me rest eternally
in Achelous' watery arms, I am his isl& called Perimele
sailors have named me & call to me, they say I'm the best

because I know how to keep the river calm or insight a gods' depths
& now I float in his wide expanse of waters
what you can no longer control my figure or flight
he forever embraces my new outline; my temple of sand.




MY ZEN CONMNECTION WITH ISADORA


Look at me
I know how to make you
Look at me
I've spent years trying to get a schizophrenic attention
Look at me
I want to take on your personality like a dog
Look at me
Someday I'll be gone
Look at me
Tell me how to make you
Look at me
I have a Zen connection with Isadora
Look at me
My scarf got sucked up by my car fan but I didn't choke
Look at me
I saved the pieces and wore them on my head as a turban and thought
Look at me
About a young girl's fascination with skeleton keys and Rosemary's grandmothers
Look at me
Preference of naming cats the names of modern dancers
Look at me
Merce Cunningham, Twila Tharp, Mark Morris, Simone Forte, & Carmen, respectively
Look at me
The exception, a cat named Bacchas
Look at me
Nothing is sacred.


BONI JOI