lay on your bed and listen to girl from the north country
turn up the blinds and off the lights
let evade you the wars outside your windows
neither their spoils nor their losses are yours to be had

let go of your eyes and let levitate the weight of your body
so very human so very connected to the fascism of gravity
forget the tips of your fingers the taste of the roof
of your mouth forget the humming of the air conditioner

there are over seven billion people in the world
take a second to think about that imagine that there
are seven billion people in the town that you live in
the city the providence the whatever now forget that

now divide that seven billion people by seven billion
watch their beautiful faces faded out watch as they
step backwards into the walls from which they came and
realize there is only you and those seven billion faces
are not gone

they are not dead they are not ghosts they are not any
single thing not some figment of your imagination they
just existed outside of you and now they are all within
you they are swollen in the rests in requiem within you

not in some sort of chaotic time square medley but praying
they are meditating they are still like terracotta
soldiers they are not unmoved by the wind no that is
impossible but they are unafraid of it

and forget about them now

plant a seed in the base of your skull. now water it.
now watch it rise from the surface. now watch it bloom.
outward and outward still it is craving just to be
as much as it knows how to be

now pluck each and every petal from the flower
one at a time each petal between the fingers of your mind
now fall deep deep into the earth and fall through
to the sky to the cosmos and learn to writhe gently
learn to swim through cold water and you’re there

ambivalent sweet indestructible river of silent music
of empty sight of the justice of unasked questions
ten million pounds of feathers thrown into surrender
swayed only by the holes in the letters of the words

and if you forget
lay on your bed and listen to girl from the north country
the freewheelin one

doctor’s orders


Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s