titular indeterminayacy, approximately as published aurally at speaking crow, may 3/05

the first time i got married
was the year big brother
was too busy blushing to be watching,
never mind
catching bouquets
on tape

i remarried the year
my favourite movie turned 33
but i won't be asking
any daisies anytime soon
to give me your a n s w e r d o
or pod bay doors to open
or we'd be here forever
watching the paint dry on monoliths
already primed for square-dancing
[1-2-3 1-2-3]
around black holes in the theory of destinations
& jupiter
would begin having sequels
a lot less jovian
& much more like
a prodigal sun
stealing the fire from the centre
of our daylight savings time

but even hal hath no fury
like a date that goes uncircled
by the dawn of man
hearing ligeti at daybreak

thus began my
mennolytic period

i'd plead the fifth of the fifth
but all i'd get
would be festivities
cinco de mayo

the mayans had calendars
by my-oh-my if "maya"
isn't just a foundation
for illusion to build pyramids to
(even the stars are blood-spattered)

this is my illusion:
happy fourth, i say
anniversarially
to the fifth of the fifth

her narrative
a year ago today
took a tortuous path then introduced it
to the very notion
of anniversifications
because the narratives are restless
as bodies disenfranchised
by machetes & heads used
as soccerballs became her
new level of playingminefields...

but
back to my maya
my mayday
the beast with two backlashes:
even my maieutics
are having a midwife crisis

& menno? please!
blistered are the pleasemakers'
lips
no more pleading
the fifth of the fifth
as cinco de mayo celebrates
only liberation

where does this menno in me
come from?
s t r e n g t h
menno magin mayin magna.
from the magnifique to the
- mainly - fecal
my how the faces of the mighty are
- proudly - fallen
|p| -- |f|
can i stomach the very vocabulary
of strength i abs
tract?
magin or mayin?
g soft, mayanor

i'm into
mayanihilation now
maintenant, je suis
montagne-uish-fulfilling...

i wanted to know more about this
hindubuddhist notion of illusions
so i ground up the wedding band
that a friend had
carved out of antler
&
snorted it
& i asked the mystical being that appeared before me
if he was a genuine lama.
casually turning his head
not to cough but to scratch at
his hump outlined
by the andes, he snorted
that's "yama", señor!
wow
i said waking up with
a severe case of enlightenment.
even my hills of illucination are alive
with anagrams of maya

& i'm sure now,
that if i'd have looked more closely
into the emptiness of that fortune cookie i had
on that fateful or fateless wedding day
i would have seen beyond
that freudian
or jungian
or yinyangian
lack of slip.
under magnification i would have noted:
my dead god!
it's full of stars!

i'm still seeing stars
& they wish me
happy universary

but i still navigate by fixing
my sights on my maya.
bonne fête, zha-nin
you're still the genesis of so much
janineality

even zeus feels juiced