I AM LISTENING TO JOHN CAGE
I am listening to John Cage
when I am drowning
I am listening to John Cage
whether or not he loves me.
I am listening to John Cage
when the ghost blows out the candle.
I am listening to John Cage
when twin sirens break the silence.
I am listening to John Cage
when Charles Trenet is being drowned out by the Beatles
and my neighbor is drowning out birds
who are swallowing insects.
I am listening to John Cage -
well, you get the idea.
I hope you get the idea.
I am listening to John Cage
when I am dragging the bottom of slumber.
I am listening to John Cage
when I am being most annoying,
have drank too much strong coffee,
and am having a bad hair day.
When you are smashing the toy piano
and I have sex while having my period
and all the men in the room are flinching
(except the really, really good ones).
I am listening to John Cage.
when I can’t remember why I fell
in love, or drank the moon;
tried to drown her in milk and garters.
When I’ve forgotten my name I am listening to John Cage.
All the dusty typewriters await
the first note,
bleat of the new lamb,
melody that died for love.
Mary Leary would rather have been born an accountant. Alas, her response to living all over the place with a military family, along with being basically mixed-race, has generally been... creative writing/dancing/djing/playing music/making publications/writing songs. Her favorite experiences, as such, include reading Green Eggs and Hams to a roomful of children with Down's syndrome at San Diego High in 2001. Another was reading/publishing with the Unbearables/Neophobes, along with periodic pop-ups in Public Illumination.