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in the 96 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book...
a Rural Story
Down in the Dirt (v126) (the Nov./Dec. 2014 Issue)




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a Rural Story

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by Janet Kuypers:

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What Must be Done
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July - Dec. 2014
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My brain was

Janet Kuypers
this poem was started 5/20/14, written daily through 5/24/14
and was conceived after hearing the Vittorio Carlit poem “The Trouble with Librarians”


My brain was fighting to get out.

My brain was watching the ash
fall from Mount St. Helens
before I collected it,
so I could never forget.

My brain was stupefied
after my name was called
for winning the award.
The only thing
my brain could think
was that the man on stage
from the American Legion
with my medal looked like
he was the nicest man on earth.

My brain was stunned into silence,
first looking skyward
in breathless anticipation
at our astronomers
as the year began anew,
before the Challenger disaster
took all our hope away.

My brain was doing everything it could
to shut itself off,
but no one could ever drink enough
when rape while intoxicated
is still rape.

My brain was anxious,
waiting for a piece
of the Berlin Wall,
that a friend gave me
for finding future freedom.

My brain was...
quiet, and proud,
after paying my first
security deposit
and one month rent
for my first chance to get away.

My brain was smarter
than the men out there
who expected me
to lift my shirt for them.
I went to the parades,
I got the beads.
For once, the men were objectified
When I, on my balcony,
made men strip for beads
at Mardi Gras.

My brain was scanning
the chaos of the men around me —
The countdown was broadcast
on the New York loudspeakers,
but so many men were just
pissing in the street,
so I had to make sure
none got on my shoes.
Then the ball dropped.

My brain was getting moral
contemplating the sacredness
of animals around the world,
when my brain made
the conscious choice
to no longer kill them,
or even ask others
to kill for me.

My brain was calibrating
the wind speed
on this rocky red range,
until, during the dead of winter,
after seeing no one for miles
in Utah’s Arches National Park
the decision was made:
get in the lotus position
naked
and meditate on a mountaintop
until the wind was just too cold.
By then it was time
to get dressed
and hike back to civilization.

My brain was scanning
the rolling Montana roads,
not seeing cars or cops
for miles. My brain gave
my foot the okay to floor it,
and for miles the speedometer
went as high as it could
until
my brain was satiated
and I brought the car speed
back down to ninety
out in the middle of nowhere.

My brain was waiting
for everyone to start driving
as the light just turned green.
Then my brain registered
from the rear view mirror
the car speeding toward me.
My brain went into survival mode,
turned the wheels of my car
to save the motorcyclist’s life
in front of me
before my car skidded
for one hundred eight feet
and my mother had to come
to the hospital I was born in
to identify a body.

My brain was struggling
to piece back together
a life it lost.
Make those connections,
you’ve done this before,
my brain kept telling myself.
My brain got my lungs
to start breathing again.
And after they removed
that feeding tube,
my brain had to rationalize
eating again.
It was a chant from my brain...
        Get out of that wheelchair.
        Stand on your feet.
        You have places to go.
        This isn’t how
        it’s supposed to be.

My brain was contemplating philosophy,
because on this first date
we talked philosophy half the night.
And I let him kiss me goodnight.

My brain was, for one day,
allowing me to feel
like a princess.
Look, I’m getting married today,
someone else will take care of it.
My brain has done enough for this.
Let me be happy.

My brain was crouching down
on top of that glacier
when the wind became
just that violent.

My brain was determined
to get to the top of that mountain -
I know I’m not a climber,
I know I prefer hot tubs
but those ski lifts are closed
and these are the Alps
and really, how many times
will you get the chance
to climb the Alps?
My brain knows
you’re only wearing
sandals and socks
and there’s snow and water
everywhere, but this is
your only chance...

My brain felt like a heel
being carried past the last
water pit coming down
from that mountain.
But looking back,
my brain was pleased.
It had to try.

My brain was trying to remember
how to breathe,
turning my head,
hoping I could
catch my breath
as the atmosphere
was pushing me
at one hundred twenty
miles per hour
before someone
pulled my parachute.

My brain was elated,
finding out that huge bottles
of beer sold at a street vendor
were only three for a dollar
in Shanghai. What a deal.

My brain was thrown
into journalism mode
after the levees broke
from hurricane Katrina.
The water poured in,
and ocean waves
were frozen into the street.
I pulled out the camera,
snapped photos
of one house after another;
some burnt to embers
while most were spray-painted
with destruction notices
and evacuation premonitions.

My brain was too wired
to think about relaxing
in the hot tub outdoors
at eleven thirty at night
while it was still daylight,
because I was reveling
in Capitalism while docked
in Russia

My brain was commanding me
to talk loudly, clearly,
say the lines right
and make sure everything
goes off without a hitch
as you finish the ceremony
and declare the couple
husband and wife.

My brain was wracking itself,
trying to figure out what to do,
how to be healthy, so I may not
die the way my mother did.

My brain was on high alert,
but more than that,
my brain was excited
to keep swimming further down
to get closer to the row
of over two dozen
sleeping white-tipped sharks
off the Galapagos islands.

My brain was consciously
calculating constellations
I had never seen before
in the Southern Hemisphere.
And the constellation
I coined the “Martini”
(because it was shaped
like a martini glass)
was actually Phoenix, the
most prominent constellation
in the Southern sky.

        After my brain was searching
        for any way to cool down
        during the hottest
        Indy five hundred in decades...
My brain was afterwards
edging out
men’s outstretched hands.
My brain knew Jack Nicholson
would rather high five a female.
And so he did.

My brain was
keeping me awake again
last night,
thinking about
what went down during the day
or
what I gotta do tomorrow.
My brain’s always
thinking of new places,
contemplating new challenges
and opting for new options.
I lie awake and I think
that’s my brain for you,
always looking
for something new.



Scars Publications


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