Haunted Passages: Michael Sikkema
pack of dogs forms around
glitching cop, begins to glow
children, covered in fruit creep rv lands on the diner roof
pulp, head for the blue vans begins signaling with headlights
parked on high ground
approaching sirens incinerate
all the real crows in tree #5
one cricket stutters
one cricket chants
chrysalis chrysalis Tangerine Dream Flat Mountain Ranger
chrysalis chrysalis pauses outside the
chrysalis welcome center
thumbs through post
cards, watches the
“it was months we loved godspeed float past
under that luxury moon”
you lurch around your room, holding the
paddle and the knife you woke up with
Gas Station Lady lets you hide in
the beer cooler, flirts with fang cop
as you watch your sutures change color
strung between the street signs you remember
yards of human hair screaming
in someone else’s
voice as the
translucent cop
tapped on your
you remember the neon frog car window
at Croak’s Bar
Tangerine Dream
“I was born
The news says that 3-4 a worm like you”
of the Wholesome Hiker
Crew discovered several
burned bodies and your
wallet in the Squash Tunnel explain away the roots
at the eco village growing through your shoes
person of interest
chirrrp chirrpchirrrrp chirrrrrrrrrrp
“damn good squash that” shoots pop “the first enemy
leaf tips buzz is the forest”
you remember shadow figure 1 you remember the tow truck
bending shadow figure 2 over the hooked to the godspeed
bumper of a tow truck motel, the river’s heavy pull
Tangerine Dream ripping off siding and
window frames
spray painted high on the diner wall
“beware the creep rv” a dart pierces Flat Mountain
Ranger’s hand
and distributes the toxin
the toad drone
continues the live feed
tuck those freshly sprouted
leaves up under your hat
hiss of rain rising from the flood your coughing fit in the interrogation
room sloshes
Tangerine Dream a small toad
and half an amanita
on the table next
to plastic water cup
clouds fill and blow over
exposed streets shine
tallest cop explains your trouble
to night sky
all the green all
the black all the all the green
red all the green
you remember the diner waitress asking
how you’d eat with that mask on
you remember a chorus of lamb’s quarters
calling you through the parking lot green face paint smeared
one jaw key on your hands?
for all voices
Tangerine Dream
sight gone then, walking by ear in your front seat, a blowgun
a bottle of Dickel, lily pads
wake-robin, wake-robin, bloodroot
you wish you could go back
to paying the man to teach you green face paint
how to talk like everybody on the steering wheel?
the ghillie suit in your trunk
is covered in mud and blood
and cum and bbq sauce
Michael Sikkema is a poet. He has a book forthcoming from Trembling Pillow Press, a book forthcoming from Alien Buddha Press, and a chapbook of sound poems and collages fresh out from Low Frequency Press. He enjoys correspondence about owl communication, sound studies, and raising pleasantly feral children at Michael.Sikkema@gmail.com.
Image: healthclubnu.nl
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