invitation

jj jackman
know ye not - index




invitation
10/20/02

fifty-one divided by two is twenty-five and one half
why couldn’t fifty one divided by two be thirteen
or some more reasonably justifiable figure
why couldn’t fifty-one minus twenty-six be four or five

i don’t want to share your company
i want rather to covet you for my self
for an afternoon of conversation
to persuade you to my views
on essential issues
and to be so understanding and apologetic
if you would react for some reason
a second time in vehement opposition to the same
(and this i’d wish not to risk!)

i’d wish to admonish you with my
somewhat prefaced desperate insights
filtered through polarized vistas
swinging between your anvils and hammers
resonating in that timeless expanse
of your gray deciphering matter 
for a short eight hour span

and fifty-one divided by fifty-one is one
and one divided by three hundred and sixty-four and one quarter is twenty-four
and twenty-four divided by three is all i’m requesting
for a short eight hour span
swinging between your anvils and hammers
resonating in that timeless expanse
of your gray deciphering matter 
matter between synapse and ganglion
in the fluid that conducts your thoughts electrolytically
trying to keep my head looking upward 
as i cascade backfloating in a spherical downward motion
wishing rather to revolve into a dead man’s float position
privy then to view the kaleidoscopic perfection of your attentive iris
your surface attention murmurs disapproval 
while deeper convolutions tremble in affirmation

as we enter Mama Balducci’s just a corner’s turn 
from my sister's quite former apartment on 69 West Ninth
not knowing whether we’d want salmons or salsas or salads
you might lock yourself into a momentary area of non accessibility
as you decide rather on lime watermelon slices
i might then drift into catatonia
if my previously interrogated slicer
does not reply abruptly to my question on loks

and only the spirit of the simple Italian matriarch
reaffirms your deep seated familial loyalty...
why do you want to live in this city
go home honey and live with your family...

as at the end of sneezing or seizure or shaking
i crawl out of my jolt of crippling depression
in the new surface i am somewhat confident and eternal
and i know for a certainty 
that in twenty-five and one half years to the second
you’ll wish that you could be with me
and for eight hours you’ll feel my pain

then you might wish to be reproved by my 
somewhat prefaced desperate insights
filtered through polarized vistas
that could have rocked
between your anvils and hammers
resonating in that timeless expanse
of your gray deciphering matter 
for a short half of the average waking day