Sunday, April 08, 2012
MY BALLS, MY EYEBALLS
As Peter Murphy sings,
I have seen too much, wipe away my eyes,
and the gunman says,
You don’t want to be a hero,
there are things you can’t unsee—
not like goatse or tub girl—
but real things. In Egypt,
a man is lying in the street
with a valley where the top of his head
used to be. You’re safe
on the other side of the television
or computer monitor
and can’t say, I was there,
or even, I saw it through my window
as I was driving past.
It’s brain matter, scattered and pixilated
or in high def, but out of reach.
And you’re a cartoon where the only danger
is falling into the lumpy abyss.
At least you still have your eyes.
At least you can still see.