on the scientific principle of "hot air rises"

i like to perform experiments on the air. it is “bad for you.” everything that is good is bad
for you. the air gets colder the higher up you go because the molecules spread apart and less
friction is less heat. but if hot air rises wouldn’t it be hotter the higher

up you go? science is difficult. for example, the midwife’s mother has brown eyes and her
father has brown eyes but she has blue eyes. do blue eyes surface in a baby the way hot air
rises? it is impossible to know. we do not have the technology.

i am very cold. for example, the molecules on my skin are spreading out the way the
continents broke apart a while ago. if i had been high enough up in the air i could have seen
the continental drift. the midwife insists on birthing

babies in the air. it is the newest form of technology since water birth. she says that when
babies are birthed in the water they come out blue because of the scientific principle of blue
water. but when they are born in the air they come out clear

and babies should be clear. but isn’t the sky blue for the same reason that water is blue? it is
impossible to know. i do not understand how hot air balloons work. it has something to do
with fire. hot and cold are the main components of technology.

when they work against each other things rise. when they work together continents break
apart and people fall out of the sky. i did not throw the midwife overboard. i did not drop the
baby in a lake. it was science. for example,

there should be a word for every kind of sky that exists

the sky is not a good place for careful observation

it is difficult to see the native americans
at this altitude. they are pinpricks over the landscape
i think or else those are cars. it is difficult to see
a four-leaf clover without looking closely.

all of the sweet peas gather under a full moon; their light
limbless, balled into sweating fury. or else
those are trees, i don’t have water up here.
i keep my sweat in a bottle for hot days.

i have an art collection in my balloon. i have seen civilizations
pass and painted them in blood and water. War is not paint
and tiny brushstrokes; i don’t have paint up here.
“what do you do when you have to go to the bathroom?”

the passengers are dumb. i don’t go to the ground
for them anymore. i am well-stocked with lavender pebbles,
sour peaches and potatoes. i don’t need to see history
closely. i don’t need to see your face up close

to remember the boring fizz of love. my eyes sting
from dry air, not realization or tears, asshole.
i wonder how the alphabet has changed since i last
used it. i wonder if slurpees are called something different

now. it is difficult to know my mind without other minds
knocking into it. there are birds. i miss the native americans.
i miss your bald expressions. i miss mirrors. i miss time
will open up into me, blankly, without passing.

i saw a dead bird in the road today

there is a house on the water
made of dead birds
their open beaks hatch the roof
and their eyeballs are doorknobs
their wings paper the walls
and their guts are sofa beds.

they watch home movies
and remember their childhood
the movies feature dead birds flattened
in the streets and dead birds floating in the water.
dead birds with soap bones, dead birds with
cloud bones. church bones. water bones.

birds that are alive swoop
on the house. they peck at the roof
and eat the muscle couches. they think
about how the ocean is better than the hospital.
birds that are alive do not like hospitals.
sheet bones. medicine bones. dream bones.

cult bones. eye water, white
film light. remembering while floating. black bird
funeral, blood funeral in water. bird tongue
on the table. eyes in the water.
brain in the sink. flat birds in the street.
song bone. beautiful flying bone.

i don't see any tears

i think it's great that a woman and a black dude are running for president, but, for reals, why does everyone have to be so racist and sexist about it? like, any time obama puts any "flavor" into his speech people are like, "oh hells no! he's trying to be black now!" and this morning the big topic on talk radio was whether or not hillary clinton is sexy. they were saying things like, "do you notice she doesn't wear v-necklines anymore? she's trying to be asexual." and what is up with everyone saying she cried last week?

hillary is wonderful. back up.

i am political now

this is me and the heart-shaped cutout i made of hillary clinton's face. i watched her give her new hampshire victory speech last night, and for the first time i let myself imagine her as actually becoming the president. and i had this feeling like if that happened, my world view would completely change. suddenly, it would be a world where dreams come true. where the impossible happens. where good triumphs. before last night i have never believed hillary could win. she is a woman. i would not let hillary in. but now, look. she has won me.

ah, hillary you vixen. you have stolen my heart.

figure 1. by megan martin

"i have a thing inside me"

i stole that line from blake butler's blog and wrote this:

the air is empty but i have a thing inside me
i have several families living in my chest
i am going to open my own store and sell only
things that i especially like. puppets, diet coke,
spell books, beautiful rocks. i am going to sell
these things to the families in my arteries
some of the people in the families die. there is a funeral
in my kneecap. the grandmother throws herself
into the grave. the children play at empty plots
some of the people in the families say maybe they’ll call
which means they will not call. one person says
he will walk again, which means he will roll into his grave
and my knee will snap. there isn’t any time in the air
all time is encased in skin. it is new year
it is a rolling ocean and empty air and a grandmother
haunting my fingernail. it is a bright sun and a mother
under my eyelid, complaining of the heat.