The Anatomy of My Debris
This delirious poem is an embodiment of trash.
It has arms and legs a head
a drooling head
its feet clomp from the weight of being
the body contorts from
the pain of being discarded.
The eyes pressed into this fool face are plastic caps.
The hair on this clumsy head is composite small bits of plastic line
weed whacking line fish line
plastic tabs and pulls and cable ties.
This debris is a work of art.
This debris is an artist with cigarette butt fingers
and gumchew toes,
sunscreen sluffing skin –
tear off float off sheets of greasy coral-killing skin.
A rain of the artist pilfers resources clogs
seas and bays and rivers and our home stream
chokes off the ocean of all creation
shedding bits of garbage from the cloak of its being like Appleseed.
Dear gods can’t we burn this body as an offering?
The rank and the poisonous and the forlorn given up to you?
Let our crooked smokes climb to your nostrils through the black ruined air.
Let us be rid of everything.
IMAGE – Portrait of The Artist as Food for the Gods, Henry Stanton