Outgoing

Where my eyes should be
are holes a buckeye
could drop through.
I see nothing.


I speak wind,
talk nonsense
in two directions, –
say whatever comes into my head
and out again,


sing a song of cilantro
and sassafras,
shout hallelujah and
go to hell and
ha-ha-ha.


Will I listen? No.
If ever I had an ear,
it's done a disappearing act,
gone missing in the cleft
between my faces.


I am all expression, pal,
extroverted to the extreme.
Everything's leaving,
always leaving.
Nothing's coming back.

 


Colleen Anderson

Image of Mask
        Two-faced, possibly igbo mask, Nigeria. Photo by
        Stephanie Wottreng, MSU Museum Collections.







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