beard

his father and he, originally uploaded by thepianofarm.

my father and i sat together in the belly
i handed him the bone of a bird
he pulled a knife from his sleeve
and began carving one with the other
whittling the wing into a flute
shaping the sound of it
he put the instrument to his mouth and blew once

the note
held by the teeth of his breath
single and solid

the only solid thing in the space
it defined the darkness around us
he kept blowing
the note hanging above us like a light bulb
or a flower
we sat beneath it

the hairs in my father’s beard began growing
he pulled out one of the hairs
and pulled forth another
another followed that one
he kept pulling them out
they slid like swords from cherries
his hands thin birds pulling up worms
the birds dropped them in a pile at his feet
the pile grew
he kept blowing
more and more hairs kept coming out
from his beard
from his head
they kept growing
they were turning white
and still he pulled
i began pulling mine
curls from my skull
my father blew once more
and hairs started pushing through my own chin
a full beard in moments
i pulled hairs from it
red as the ones that used to run though his
that had long since turned white
the note glowed above us
humming faintly

the hairs kept coming
our beards began to grow into one another
brown becoming black becoming red turning white
you couldn’t see where one stopped and the other began
our hairs sat before us and we kept pulling
pulling out our limbs
the hairs running across them
the memories that ran through them
the dreams and hopes they still carried
they all ended up in the pile

piano farm machine, originally uploaded by thepianofarm.

marigold cemeteries

This is Barntley. His brother is missing. Parts from his skull are missing as well. They’re buried under some patch of marigolds somewhere but he’s not sure where. He thinks maybe his mother knows. So he yells out to her. MO THER ! She can’t hear him. She doesn’t live in the same city as he does. She is far away right now, she has fallen asleep on a couch that sits next to another couch that his father has fallen asleep upon. They are both in their clothes. A lamp is on. They are dreaming. They are in a city that is quiet and slowly moving through the dark like the silhouette of a dinosaur in a valley of shadows. The stars are where the teeth of old people go to when they leave the mouths of this earth. This is the world we are moving through.

the milkfish

Barntley is walking down the street. In his head he is running. In his head there is a song. There are fish. The fish are big. They have milk instead of blood inside their bodies. We are wings. This is what the fish tell him. Barntley! they scream Barntley! We are wings! WE ARE WINGS BARNTLEY! OOOPEN YOUR THICK SKULL KNOW THIS KNOW THIS KNOW THIS. Barntley shrugs his shoulders. Parts of my skull are missing, what do you want me to do? He says this to the fish as they slowly fall out from where the missing pieces of his skull would be. He feels them going like a sneeze in sleep and rolls his feet over the concrete.

fleas

Sarah is walking towards Barntley.
HI BARNTLEY. Sarah is practically yelling to him. Because she is happy to see him. So happy to see him that she yells. She at times cannot control her excitement. If you took off the clothes that her excitement wears, you would see that it is actually love. How she loves Barntley! Hot dog she does. If you were to take off the clothes Sarah wears, and then to take off the skin she holds you would see her soft small big beautiful heart trying to beat without trembling. Some days it don’t. Some days it dances.
Hi Sarah.
DO YOU WANNA DANCE?
Okay.
Barntley and Sarah dance in the middle of the sidewalk. Their dancing continues into the street. People look at them and start to dance as well, until the whole block is dancing. Then the whole street, from the east side of the river stretching over to the west side. All these people are dancing. They are happy beez. They are making honey. They smile and move. The dogs are singing and the cats jumping up and down like fleas and the cats’ fleas jumping up and down like fleas on the backs of cats jumping up and down like fleas on the backs of cats that are jumping up and down like fleas and so on and so on in that crazy loop of the hour and growing wilting flower fields. The sun sits and watches the people dancing. The sun sets fire to the sky, singes the clouds, bleeds the buildings, the moon sits next to the sun, they hold hands and watch the people dance. Then the people stop. Remember they have living to do and go to get on with it.
I’ll see you later Sarah.
I HOPE SO BARNTLEY.
Poor Sarah. Falling in love with a boy like Barntley
Poor Barntley. He has no clue. Not an f’ing clue.