UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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MATHER SCHNEIDER
The Fence There’s a low whine-growl of an animal intent, the crunch of chewed edge and cracks like broken bones, the paw and thump of earth, the shake and splinter of fence-board stabbing jowly gums flapping pink as worm-belly. A single canine flashes like a diamond in the sun and then a fore-paw like a mole’s blind head and then its brother churning like pistons. Then the whole head is there, smiling dog-face obsessed and deranged with a single idea, slimy like a demon struggling to be born. When he finally squeezes through his mouse hole he stands up and shakes himself off and trots around the parking lot that is the other side of the world. It’s no paradise only a paved place of strange smells and hostile sounds and after an hour fighting to get here five minutes is all he needs before he returns to the hole and squirms back to the familiar. There are several similar holes in the fence where history has repeated and the owner has bellowed and kicked and nailed wooden crosses over them. We Are a smoldering of the oldest symbol and every morning the alarm goes off and we get up and do it again and the sad and beaten sit in church on Sundays crying like cats at the doorways of strangers. Some people live too long and others die on the cross and morality is the last hieroglyph on the last hill. I want to be aroused in the hour of no cities, placental flame gulping raw chocolate darkness, eyes staring into it like animals on the precipice of insight, a strange hot wind in my face. Mather Schneider is a 39 year old unemployed cab driver living in Tucson with a Mexican girl. He has no college degree and has won no awards. He has a full length book coming out by Interior Noise Press. |
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