Read The Ghosts of Jay MillAr for Free Online Page B

days, remember to
    slow down days again. October… days,
    they are, after all, only days: a surface
    clouds at three in the afternoon
    and a branch that suspends it (thought)
    shrink each single motions grows until it
    vanish into the perfectly capable blue
    (sea monster) (heaven) (wing gust)
    but it was the cool rain came down that
    time of year, nice, we thought, to close
    down the morning, the evening, and of now.
    (the end) to be the darkened skies of
    hold the holes of our dreams, all the
    excitement, all the lust, now is cool and
    heavy (closed) way down here in the
    just imagine what behind the clouds
    all our little veils falling from the trees
    come about their way to catch our little
    our thoughts, we are all angels, all
    shy birds who watch each of us
    clouds out the front room window in
    the afternoon, from the inside out
    when we remember how we were absolute
    (happy) our dreams when they were our
    selves, shadows of branches at dawn.
    Flock
    nothin’s what it seems
    lies, illusions, pure empty beings
    together in nothing we are
    in love with not being
    here
    too
    non-being slips over
    into another wing
    that’s floatin’ up the street eh?
    away from the lake
    into the what? a
    fortress called forest
    Leave Me Alone:
    1 sound retreats forever into the wash
    2 we have everything at every moment
    3 the sound of the call is so pure
    Birds Land on the Roof of This Room
    and I am sad. They are so small and
    I can hear the sound of their wings
    folding as though there were no windows,
    no wood, or air, between myself and them.
    One roof over they squawk and shit
    they hop about from feet to feet with
    something great in mind, a terrific plan
    to which I have not yet been introduced.
    I listen to them surely discussing
    the weather, what to eat, where to get laid,
    etcetera. Then they fly off. I sip my coffee and
    I am sad. Being human thinks so hard some
    times of all the things we could have had.
    Notes to an Untitled Poem
    ONE ) everyone please breathe to begin; for it is the air that holds us.
    TWO ) defined by a freedom to choose your voice, not to find it; to choose the chorus, not to discover any of them.
    THREE ) I still believe and will continue to believe we have much to learn from the flocking birds, those who move together and sing to each other. Unconcerned. Suspicious. Migratory and Feared.
    FOR no real community could ever be fully understood as a community by anyone, even those who belong to it. FOR there should be such flexibility within the ranks. FOR the mystery of play we have gathered. FOR the presence of any ghosts you desire.
    FIVE thru NINE ) if involved in a community, however diversified or small, one tends not to feel a faceless stick in a group of empty sticks, as one does sitting on the subway during morning rush hour, then coming up the steps of St Andrew Station at say 8:28 in the morning, a herd of cattle oppressed to the extent of blindness and disregard. Where no muse could possibly bother to penetrate our sense of hopelessness, the death of the imagination first thing upon waking, but lives do exist in the sense that one finally feels free to exist as they may, in a complete and utter anarchy amongst the ranks, free breath for everyone! (breathe dammit) an intoxication in and about the premises that allows for this cast of invisible ballots that has real meaning.
    TEN ) it is the role of those already established to exploit all those interested in becoming a part of their community, despite how evil this may seem at first, it is for the benefit of the whole, since the older members will forever be comfortable in their declining years. Such ‘exploitation’, as it has been originally considered, will eventually wear away to something equivalent to mere initiation. Watch to see who shall fall far from the nest through our notes.
    ELEVEN thru THIRTEEN ) It might be said (indeed it shall) that I never really understood any sense of community until I met my inlaws,