Parade
From the mother I came from came
one-half the mothers or fathers
of my grandchildren, as an upside
down tree’s branches become
its roots. I want my inverted self
to be as different from myself
as I get, but it’s through the glass
that all the sense starts to make
itself so. My inverted self is no
different from you, my left
eye your right, myself no different
than the strange progeny looking
down time to find me, waiting
to be given whatever’s theirs.
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1 comment:
I am pro-DNA. Let the upside-down tree appear.
My discovery, at a Health Fair of all places, was The Icarus Project, a bunch of bipolar types who got the gumption up to for a club and go pass out stickers at health fairs. I think they should have called themselves The Van Gogh Ear. Their slogan is "Building Radical Mental Health supports in a world gone mad."
The poor depressed Icarus table was manned by a lone girl sitting in a black tshirt between the Asian Islanders Aids Awareness table (half dozen kids whooping it up) and a gang of dietitions giving away ziploc bags of carrot sticks and preaching caffeine-moderation.
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