Aaron Belz is the author of The Bird Hoverer (BlazeVOX, 2007) and Lovely, Raspberry (Persea, 2010). He is an English professor at Providence Christian College in Pasadena, California.
TO DREAM ONLY OF BUNNIES
To dream only of bunnies
is a kind of poverty.
To dream of red flashing lights,
and that only, is also sad.
To dream of flashing red
bunnies, however; to sleep,
and by a sleep to say
we dream of red and green
and a friend we haven't seen
in quite awhile standing
naked in their midst;
to sleep: perchance to die
in this our lonely shadow,
is basically to wake up
in a most alert way,
suddenly, and on a Sunday
afternoon, at the futon's
edge, one hand on the floor,
and to know, at last,
that one's existence
has meaning; has, not only
meaning, but importance;
has, in short, a dream
toward which to point its
prow as toward the rising sun
that, white on the horizon,
fills the water with its flashes.
MR. FIBITZ
I no longer say that my beer
has "head"; I say it has a foamy
top. I say there is a goodly froth
in the uppermost portion,
that it seems almost whipped.
No, I don't say that my beer
seems "whipped" or that it has
"head," even as I never ask
if people are "coming."
"I am having a big party—
are you coming?" seems
horribly confusing to me.
I ask them if they "plan
to attend," and when they
get there and begin to tap
my keg, I warn them that
they'll get a lot of "froth"
or "foam" if they're not careful.
And when they ask how
I'm doing, I never say,
anymore, that I feel "gay."
I just don't put it that way.
I never use the phrase,
"standing erect," either.
I say, "standing straight up."
I also never refer to my
donkey as an "ass," nor do I say
that I'm planning to "ride
some ass" if what I mean
is that I'm going for a ride
on Mr. Fibitz. Nor do I ever
use the word "mount"
to indicate getting on Mr. Fibitz.
I don't even say "getting on"
Mr. Fibitz anymore. It's confusing
for the listener, and the listener
is whom I care about. However,
sitting erect on Mr. Fibitz I do feel gay,
happy enough to ride him for hours—
it's just no longer what I say.
THINGS THAT I HAVE ONLY ONE OF
I have two kinds of things, she says.
I have things that I am into
and things that I have only one of.
That there is more than one thing
that I have only one of is, of
course, the irony of ownership;
the real question, though, is
where do the circles overlap?
What are the things that I am into
that I have only one of? she says,
and looks momentarily tired.
Perhaps, she muses; perhaps
there is a third kind of thing.
For I also have many things
made of leather. See? she says,
gesturing to a large collection
of leather objects. I am also into
ornithography, she remarks. Now,
does that count as a thing that I
have only one of? For I do not
have more than one ornithography.