Lucy Ives:

via GutCult

"To Find the Particular Place and Then to Hold On To It"

To find the particular place and then to hold onto it
The streets were wet where I was walking, what a phenomenal force she used to be
I said to myself as a white wraith rode out on a rope of light that went
Straight out horizontal from one eye of an ambulance
Burning rubber, the on-off flashes, getting away and just thinking
That’s ok, I tell myself, trying to enter one of the clouds passing overhead
I keep remembering what you said before we watched those stupid videos
And now how I peel the sticky paper off my eyes
You can’t look at your own ability to see, you have to just look
So I want to: at the candles jumping across the table on the tv
over the knifed-in name of the devil
They lock him in the ceiling
He makes a kingdom of the air, showing his teeth, making both a rule and a display out of his feeling
walking the long earth so active he can never get over it
How have I come to aspire to this also
From my forehead grow two wispy antennae and I go past a lot of stores
carrying gray boxes in my skull and putting your cool words in them
(Delight)
Have you ever thought it is strange how you have to talk to so many people each day who don’t need your existence
Who don’t need your weird existence like
I don’t need yours, reader
O push the clouds away, O push away the thick silk mat of me coming towards you
Push now the barrier in your mouth
A whole hill of tissue a whole room
We either say no words or weep into it

"To All Other Things What I Prefer Most Is Thinking What I Really Think"

To all other things what I prefer most is thinking what I really think
Even if I cannot say the words in a blue room dressed with diners and
recognized official faces dripping with very little save advice and allergies
Outdoors is a garden dripping with ferns where comes an orange-eyed cat
with a green branch, with a hollow green branch he has strung like a guitar
My blue hand slips in to scratch behind his pearly ear and then flies off
again like a bird: he turns his head like he would begin
but that was a bird
Why is it so far off
I can tell you how selfish I’ve become, this wasn’t a necessary transformation
I am telling you this as you look for the bird, I lie back with my back bent
over a star, with my long scaled back wrapped around a star
now sucking the hot tip of my finger
the face of the cat is your face and it burns
you smile like so many kitchens, pulling your white fur socks up
to make your way back to the party
Meanwhile the only thing filling my body is money
Now and then the scent of lucre drips from my eye in a gooey pearl
The people inside love a musical cat
The stars retreat like wheels