Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexuals Read Online Free PDF Page B

reading. Like it isn’t. The dunk felt like a leather
    study in space, and someone thinking
how
inside him,
    and a perfected body in a leather chair wondering just
    how high he can jump toward heaven. A leap sometimes
    occurs within an animal, the dunk felt that happen
    within him. He landed sure on his feet again and then
    he was wholly himself. A joint so surely in its socket,
    the whole city could go walking on it. All the rain
    comes down at once in a single bounding drop,
    and the wells of the countryside look up at once full,
    and no open mouth is thirsty, and every mouth is open.
    A great heavy body it weighed the dunk down. The dunk
    and the moon pulled it up like the sea. The crowd of us
    shouted his name to dunk him deep into himself. More
    than half-moons in his fingertips, and rising through the air
    in a loud round translation,
    and the air right then breathing him back.
    Was the only complete thing in the world, was the dunk.
    Well that and everyone who watched it.
    Goosebumps even on the ball. The ball spinning like
    bodies could live on it, and whatever led up to the bodies
    too. It stood up too fast, it got taller and taller, its women get
    bellies like basketballs. A woman dunking! That’ll be the day.
    Yet here I am sailing over your heads, and then,
    with the sound, slamming into them.

The Third Power
    Little boy he is learning to see
    Magic Eyes. Little boy hidden objects
    leap out their way at him. He covers
    his walls with the pink and red posters,
    and pops his black eyes at them, and sees
    all the objects that live in the sun, objects
    so tan they stand out against sand. More
    than words the boy wants to see something
    undress, even if only a lake and a sailboat.
    They jump out and he longs to jump in—
    he would cannonball into that lake and
    just float. Here he is in a room that smells
    all locked up, like men and the imprison-
    ment of lizards, and he stares at Magic Eyes,
    in fact he stares so hard it hurts, and says
    oh my God a heart, and oh my God a pair
    of lips, because what is 3-D after all? When
    the air in the room becomes apparent,
    and carves itself out around a her or a him,
    and now little boy’s father he bangs down
    the door, and strides in and stares so hard
    that he hurts, says, “We had 3-D in my day
    and we called it AMERICA! We had 3-D
    in my day and we called it bare bosoms!”
    but the pictures refuse to open for him
    or show even their innocent parts:
    the dog and the sphere and the American
    flag will never undress
    for the first time again.
    He slams the door behind him, and thinks
    getting into heaven is hard. It is the cube
    that does not open. It is the cube that is only
    to look at, but look. There behind that door, look
    there. There the cube is, leaping out of the square.

Natural Dialogue Grows in the Woods
    Along with the poison berries,
    and it’s your job in this life to spit both out,
    and spit both out if you want to live. Listen
    and learn to me and the woods: the Ummm
    of the little crickets. The fresh and slangy
    crows, who end every last word with the letter
    A
. Rats, say the mice in the woods, and What’s
    the fuckin difference, Dad? My PawPaw
    always says, says the voice inside the fruit tree.
    Good ears and great ears and even uncanny
    are trembling here in the woods, perked every-
    where are ears for speech as it is spoke. Stiffies
    of dialogue circle the trees and look for holes
    in the conversation, and wait to get Red Riding
    Hood as soon as she leaves the wild.
    She says she never will, and stretches the word
    giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirl so long that we all become
    women during it. The woodsman lives here too,
    and he stretches the word maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan
    so long that we all die out before he’s done.
    Death is so random, deep here in the woods.
    In the woods the eternal Daaaaaamn and Gonna,
    and the small exact birds saying What it is. Like
    like like from morning to night, till even the night
    is like the