Shel Graves' Sensorium

Sudden Sickness  I dreamt a fruit bat infected me with a mysterious illness.  I was waning sick and the handsome doctor,  Was kept away from his children, poppets left on his office floor,  Me apologizing for the world, he wondering what to do with me.

Exhaustion  A small child who sleeps easily; and then doesn’t, Who eats well; And then becomes picky. A child beside the ocean standing in a seashell. The first time a child sleeps through the night. The first time a child comes down with fever. A hot child, with hot tears, fed hot orange liquid, A child who is, for whatever reason, afraid to eat.  An adult, themself, making peppermint tea to drink alone. An adult, anxious, who has lost their words and way.

Happy Birthday, Bunnerton!  My body, poor body, exhausted all last week finds a new day.  Day without nausea, lower back pain, and eating rice.  Rice for meals for many months and I could not do anything,  Anything you pay attention to becomes you.  You become rice and can’t get comfortable except on your stomach,  Stomachs, aches, and eating take so much of our time,  Time like breath comes in and out freely,  Freely breathing, you want there to be some better way.  Better way of coffee or peppermint? To salve a boring life,  Life a body of complaints, dry feeling, and every one’s suffering.  Suffering, wakefulness, and ready to go to work. This must stop.  Stop pondering here and begin this birth day.

Hiding  Last night I went into hiding,  I found a tight space in the wall,  The white rat searched for me,  “Why? Why?” it squeaked.  Could it hear my pounding heart?  Suddenly, it looked upon my pained face, Its whiskers pressed into my cheek,  Exposed and exhausted, I collapsed, I let the rat become me.

Skipper  I skipped a day of attention to my body,  It just did what ever it wanted, At 1 am it swelled and floated up out of the bed,  So, it rolled from side to side against the ceiling, When it came back down I was so hungry,  Stomach rumbling between wheezy breaths.

Switcher  Following many days of disinterest,  Filled with similar horrible events,  I lie with my legs outstretched,  Heels resting upon the footstool.  I have eaten several heavy hot stones,  And sink now into the green chair,  Haunches hot-pressed and painful,  Stiffening, I wrap my robe around me, and rise.  I move to the other green chair beside the window.

Breakfast  Sitting on the tall stool, shoulders hunched.  Feet on the lower bars, just toes touch.  Butt solid on the stool. Legs in the air.  Stomach dangling, waiting for care.  A butter knife in my hand. Ready to spread. I guess this is all right, better than bed?

Taste: coconut soup; Brazil nuts  Sound: Vitamin String Quartet; "Camino," Oliver Schroer Smell: pine, Black Forest  Sight: long brown hair, hair curly in the damp  Touch: damp fur, soft fur  Extra: weepy; hungry  A Jolt of Joy: happy dog, relaxed open mouth Grateful for: days off with Sam, power, water

Resisting Rising  Peppermint and ibuprofen,  My hunched body resists awareness,  But Mary Shelley cat wants everyone up, And the coffee is sweet with hazelnut cream.

Want and Plenty  It rains and rains, but there is no water, Downpours soak, a crashing full creek, but empty sinks,  We can fill the kiddie pools, but cannot flush the toilets  In my dreams there’s barking, snarling, and six Goldendoodle pups, I see neighbors I could appreciate and meet,  Potential friends and progressive domestic harmony.  Once black flakes of ash fell through the sky and spread over the sidewalk,  The hotel burned, still under construction, almost complete,  Firefighters moved through the dark sky saving nearby houses.  Black flakes peel off my arm healing a bat tattoo. She wants to fly off,  My arm holds the leashes for the dogs who wish to fly, too, Every paw quick until they stop, go still, to sniff the ash.  The dogs frenzy about their forthcoming breakfast, Someone wants to make them home-cooked meals, everything organic,  Whatever, how delicious and nourishing, they want it now, now!  Who cares! Once ...

Inconstancy  When I began,  I wrote every day,  Wishing for such dedication,  Admiring my ability, To continue. Now, in editing,  I love, The forgotten days,  The blank spaces, Please me. Here are the idle days, Sitting in the kitchen,  Achingly hungry,  Watching Sam cook, Pancakes for me.

Stone Golem   Eyes looking out the cathedral window taking it all in.  Where did you go last night?  What happened to your eye?  When you chase after me, the women mock you.  Why should you care what anyone thinks?  You have changed your life’s plans since then,  Instead of roaming, you stay within the iron gates,  Listening to books about healing trauma. Watching the cherry blossoms fall in the courtyard.  You sit, waiting, with your heavy legs folded,  Why do you cause yourself such pain?  It’s about the voice within, the lack of a stomach. Knees bent and crumbling after so much time in prayer.  What’s that flapping, trembling, gong?  Your heart valves and clogged arteries?  No matter. I am more worried for your brittle, thinning neck.

Violence Against Animals  In this body, lie my nightmares,  In which my intimates injure  Small and defenseless animals  People I love engaged in harm  Stomping kittens and frying puppies  Other disturbing images I cannot remember.  Here in my usual writing space and position,  I sit with a torn hole in my pants’ knee  Seated between two small dogs, unwilling to rise  Chest tightening feelings of panic  Even in the midst of meditation When I try to let go I feel sadness locked within.  I breathe into my belly and stretch toward the sky.  Above the world looks bright, clear, free of fear and harm.

Good Morning  Two puppies and 200 hundred dollars given as a gift,  Cold breasts. Hot coffee. Usual posture.  Sleepy, reluctant start to this day.  Never have I been so aware of my own internal temperature.  Eyes falling shut. Very little within me wishes to be awake.  My temperature runs cold or, if I am crying, hot.  Body stiff from three days of immobility.  Tense and anxious about moving into this day.  It will be OK. You are safe body. Really.  More hot coffee. And puppies.

Carepets  Waiting for a buoyant mood,  Tapeworms and blood invade my dreams,  Here I meet two competent doctors, My toes spaced wide on the soft carpet.  The posture and positions cause pain, Pay attention to me!: Every internal body part insists,  I went into my body and did not come out, Thinking about myself: Everything feels like effort.  Last night I felt thin, my hip bones sticking out,  This morning: Hungry, Hands over my bony knees, Bone covered by sagging flesh.

The Green Chair  The cat overtakes the writing room, then gets confined to it.  The moments of pleasure she offered, no longer mine to take.  While she purrs I sit, my foot tucked into my crotch.  Who would comb our very alive and tingling bodies?  The electric world hums bright with throbbing female parts.  And I would give anything for a clear, deep breath.

Less Than Normal    My body has been cold, my temperature low,  Cold coming through the hole in my pant’s knee. I am already accepting bodily discomfort, If your temperature is more than 99.4, you must go home.

Eating Apple-Pine in Hiding  SITTING IN THE KITCHEN.  I LEFT THE CAPS LOCK ON.  Happy circumstance.  Like sprinkling rosemary on potatoes.

Me and the Bear  In my sleep I move as in a video game,  The world moves around me,  Panning left and right, up and down.  The world comes to a stop in my writing den.  Where the bear hugs a laptop to its chest,  And refuses to take another step.  Sitting in his usual posture, Bear legs flopped over, claws grown long,  Floating in the air above my head.  I am very in my mind.  Talking to the bear about the work ahead of us.  Listening to his snuffling grunts.  Two parallel scratches mark my writing hand,  Red wounds with pink edges,  Which I examine with wonder.  How did this happen?  The bear sips his coffee and grins. Not a metaphor for anything, but a bear.

Visible Sadness  My coworker came to check on me  So I am missed or I was absent.  Five minutes to check in,  With guilt beginning the workweek.   I did not relax or relaxed too little.  I was too stressed or not enough.  Certainly so tired and tired still.  Uncertainly, sitting on the red couch,  Feet firm against the floor, alive and tingling,  Vibrating with tense and muscled toes,   Remind me to breathe deep,  Listening to my heart in my feet.  Cramped toes, suffering for nothing.  Excesses of heels and broken supply chains.  Raise up my feet and stretch.

Vivid Dreams  Horses with red reins of anxiety  Walk through dense leaves together.  The leopard looks down upon them and sobs,  Green tears, without the will to leap.   A bear rests between my legs,  And tiger snarls at my feet.  Everything sinks into a red-green anger,  Horse hooves clop, the leopard’s tail twists.  The heavy weight of the bear’s bottom,  The arched and rounded back of the tiger,  Sit in my belly which opens wide,  Intestines twisting into the sky.  The leopard’s raspy inhale startles the horses,  Their hooves churn, crushing the red apple rot.  The bear lifts its nose and sniffs,  The tiger tenses with stoppered breath.  Cancerous dolls sit beside patient puppies,  On the red couch, all waiting for me.  But I am in the green apple forest filled with full grown animals.

Red Couch  Waiting to play Divinity,  Sitting with loads of potato chips,  Feeding my swollen belly,  Pinching socks trapping my toes,  Lying on the red couch, legs up, Waiting to play Divinity.

Taste:  dark chocolate Smell: valerian, vervain; Astral Projection: chamomile, rose, lavender, valerian, clary sage, cedar, and star anise Sight: a shining leaf or a tin can  Touch:  waxy, smooth Extra: the worlds contained in a nose; night vision, herbal plants A Jolt of Joy: a pleasant scent, a whiff of joy Grateful for: Sunday with Sam

The Dress Shop  Bright orange, neon pink, and a friend from faraway.  She returned all of the old items to me in a letter.  The dog sudsed up in the washing machine.  It was OK at first, but then, on reflection, very not.

Downtrodden  Sitting in the kitchen, wakeful, With dawn stomach aches.  Taut anger stretches over tight bellies, Over full and bloated with regret. Coffee lavas through, wakeful, As the mourning doves lament, Rapid successions of dour heads bobbing, Kneeling before temples of regret.

The last poem in a month of poems  Good morning, sleepy, heavy body.  Good night, anxious, meditating mind. Toes spread wide in this usual writing space.  Go write outside on the deck of a skyscraper.  Tingling sources of energy,  Body parts inflamed by sensitivity. Runny nose. Tight chest. Mouth coughing.  Dry lips. Slack cheeks. Eyes watering.  Belly full and wide. Clear breath.  Reaching up, hungering, and yearning,  Ready to play Xbox and numb the shit out of everything.  Did you see that coming?

Dichotomy  An out of body experience, in body,  Moving out of an apartment, into a new place, Going back to college and memorizing a eulogy, Writing in my chair with crossed and dangling legs,  Drinking coffee and wine, black and red tastes clogging my throat,  Lacking movement in my sore wrists, a finger cut on the dog food can,  Numbing ointment as I tap my fingers, writing pain,  Sinking breath to the belly scorched and trapped, Stiffening spine compressed in place,  Stretching both up to the sky and down to the grounding earth.

Summer Wildfires Breathe. Nostrils clear.  Lungs full.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Walking meditation.  Green Earth.  Hands soft.  Later there will be yellow smoke, but today blue sky and green leaves. Breathe.

Yesterday  I lay belly first on the grass and felt all of the Earth beneath me.  Wanting to go to the ocean. Sounds of waves. Smell of sea. Sand.

Good Morning  Stiff tight body.  Usual seat. Usual Posture.  Left leg dangles.  Toes touch the floor.  Right foot achy.  Left knee silent.  Thighs present.  Belly out.  Back hunched.  Neck tight.  Shoulders tight and hunched.  Eyes heavy.  Sour taste in throat.  Cheeks and face soft.  Stretch, please.  Who wants to move, to run?

Melting Dogs Reconstituted  Descending into a basement to rescue trapped critters,  Tearing apart the walls to find moving bodies,  Ascending with puppies and puppies and puppies.  Sitting in the kitchen with Sam on a Tuesday morning, Drinking coffee with the taste of coffee rot in my throat, Standing with peppermint creamer in hand, pouring, pouring. Running through my neighborhood beside the ocean,  Getting flexible and becoming taller beside a tree,  Sitting in the writing chair again and flattening, flattening. Breathing weakly, though somewhat and someway clear, Taking a deep breath and it catches,  Feeling strong within and all of the vitamins, vitamins. Saving my numb toes and dry feet from walking,  Feeling pain in my big toe on my left foot,  Cutting the nail too short — again and again and again. Dangling calves, hanging in air,  Thighs pressed against the kitchen stool, Grounding my feet upon the laminate floor, cooling,...