WEBVTT

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One of the things
that starts to happen

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is the journey goes
on as the self starts

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taking on different identities.

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And, this is one of those poems.

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Where the self is split and
recognizing another part.

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It's also based on a real
incident that happened to me.

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And the poem is called
"Hound and Leper."

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"The madwoman in gloves
has let her hand blow open

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through soily eyelets and
points one finger at me

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across the street.

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You're so ugly, she yells.

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And in the tinny sunlight,
I glance behind me

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hoping to see the grotesque.

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Where'd you get
such an ugly face?

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She approaches, her
blue socks in rings,

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and a man's shoe
mouthing open at the toe.

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I walk on straight and slowly.

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Like my loved ones told me.

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She shakes her fist as I pass.

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A pigeon is whining
in the palm tree

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and some house with a passion
vine tangles to my left.

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Will she follow me?

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My accuser.

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Harsh haired, malty breath,
eyes of aluminum and string.

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At the bridge, she
passes under, and I,

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over the hard crease
and quartz fossil

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bed of the river whose
mirror has walked.

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She's seen it.

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The disfigurement of dream.

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The hound and leper in my face.

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How flesh is always on
the scent of something.

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And the marrowy suck of my
eye is creating symbiosis.

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Hunger and denial.

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It is the one who does not love
you whom you finally believe.

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Tonight, in that drift before
sleep, her voice is his.

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On the ceiling
eros rides psyche.

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I sleep disguised as myself.

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My derelict.

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Where'd you get that mouth--

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Christ.

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Her eyes hidden behind
her hand mid-street.

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My no one.

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My confessor.

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My lips are red iron.

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I can't bear their secret.

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I'd stuff them with dynamite
and run straight home,

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like my loved ones said."

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No, I'm not paranoid.

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[LAUGHING]

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Imaginary water.