Views | Genoel

Views

From my bedroom window, I have a view
of kumquat trees.

From the kitchen, there are vines
entangled with a brutal
metal fence.

And in my dream, I dreamt of the man
who chose me on the train,
stalked me close
with eyes like cue balls

I dreamt he moved in next door.

There are grapes now on the vine,
they have the tactile, frosted aspect
nice to touch.

I don’t even want to walk in the dark
anymore.

I toast pieces of bread in the morning
and at night.

I knew him by his socks, his no shoes,
cue ball eyes;

And I sometimes choose
to believe

that dreams are garbage–

dredged from the same pit as
the tantalum mines, that place our clothes go to
when we don’t wear them anymore.

That place, the spiritual equivalent
of a movie theater floor.

Thick with grease gone scummy,
separated from all previous context.

If I ever see him again,
in my dream,
I will move in all directions
at once. I’ll go
3d hexagonal.

I almost think I am ready
to shoot the plane down.

I almost think I am ready
to grab the paradigm by its hair
drag it across the yard
kick it into limpness

see if it learns anything

Listen to Views: 

Genoel

I.

I have no respect for the moment
I am pulling your long toes seaward
I am squeezing them in the direction
of your heart

because vague interest in reflexology
and because creatively staving off bedtime.

And I chew on the scythe of mango,
I lap at the future, sick wave.

II.

You say: it started to snow.
We approached the huge shape
in the field and

this sort of bleeds into a parallel tale,
about a paradise, teeming with
unusual life- Arcadia in view!-

the mango as big as a camel’s
heart, all of my aether gone heartward, now
through the toes.

A terrifying lack of strategy here,
black bird in free-dive
                                            – I wonder where

I have put all those feathery fragments
that in theory
make up the woman. But in my disperse state

I just am, that is just the way that I am
and it is also sort of sacred,
sort of santa sangre. Even

my tangible gaze is a bit
Arcadia.

Listen to Genoel: 

Provenance: Submission

Allison Hummel is based in northeast Los Angeles. Her work has appeared in journals such as A Glimpse Of, Voicemail Poems, and the Cabildo Quarterly. It is forthcoming in A Velvet Giant, Decentre, and ZiN Daily.

Featured Image: Corfu – Agios Gordios – Kumquat tree by muffinn is licensed under CC BY 2.0