Ish Klein
From a Book of Changes

I was looking for the book of me to throw
at the book of you and this is what I found:
It's one book. Not exactly square;

at times yes, 90˚ angles. You pull a page up what ho!
like a bed sheet and underneath is you and me and something
like a dragon boat. It begins in the mouth.

The first page is dirt you put dirt in your mouth
and spit it out. We read trails and pulls and weezes.
I put palm leafs on our heads and call us sage pages

You say, now chocolate
I say stomachache. You say no fun.
I say you are too white, you say no way

and work at the edge to pull a sheet off this argument. Look!
A drunk is asleep. You think help him. I say he's bleeding acid
call the family, you say the family's the problem

I say so what? they have to and you say k(no)w they don't.
You wake the drunk and he yells you are trying to kill him.
You say get the F_ out of my book

he says it's his book whitey; you direct him to me and say whitey-er.
I say I am albino and therefore blacker than both your sorry asses
in terms of non-standard. I go to prove it in the book

and the drunk starts eating the book
you put your hand in his mouth, I put my hand in his nose
doing this we three become dogs, the book becomes a glowing hand,

it's little finger in the drunk dog's mouth.
The drunk dog says F_!, the hand leaps from his mouth and clamps
onto my throat, the drunk dog bites my scalp

I scream and you run around us in circles yapping
The drunk dog starts lowering me into the ground
then the hand grips the drunk dogs tail, twisting it

They whirl around and you slow your yap run.
I bleed and my blood becomes a red plastic bucket.
You start to mention my plastic blood and I say F_

into your brain. We watch the drunk dog and the hand
on his tail while backing up.
I say you should talk to the hand

and you laugh into my brain. I say seriously.
You say the drunk dog had it coming.
You become a general; I am private first class.

I decide to put the hand into the bucket somehow.
The bucket's handle tastes like a mexican worm bar snack.
I say this into your brain. You say la di da.

You move to the right so that I must follow with my mind.
I turn and the drunk dog is asleep, the hand is nowhere visible.
I say the hand! the hand! My bucket becomes a red vinyl collar

you say you will wear it!
I say, the hand! You say you will wear the collar.
I do not know how to say no. I worry.

I might need it. You put it together in your mind.
You leave. I reconsider the collar. You leave. And the hand!
I start howling like a cartoon coyote.

You will send letters, grit in my eyes from South America
I say would they like me in a blimp, General?
You say a blimp? Is your name on it, private?

I become tired. I decide to call the drunk dog's family
by bloody bandages on their clotheslines
and spitting DNA all over the place.

They come and they see what has happened: his being a dog
they are nice to him. I say he will change probably soon
anyway it isn't bad being a dog and I realize he is leaving

and I realize he is leaving and I realize
I become pollen in your eyes
I say inside your brain I hate you instant whole

and you laugh inside my brain and say I am a hole
and you are a whole and I say no way General
and you say you are so a whole, private.