TAXES: a poem from the 3:15 experiment

This poem is from the 3:15 experiment and was published in between sleeps: poems from the 3:15 Experiment 1993-2005.

Poets from all over the world wake up at 3:15 am every night in August and write!

For those of you readers who live in the US, you will know why I chose to post this…as taxes must be “posted” by Tuesday night April 15 by midnight. Wish us luck! We’re almost done with 2006, and found out we don’t have to get in 2007 by April 15 to get our rebate as long as we’re getting back money (which we should) thanks to our friend Charles and our friend Annie.

This is the version of the poem published in ARTLIFE Limited Editions April 2003; the version published in between sleeps: the 3:15 experiment 1993-2005 is exactly how I wrote it at 3:15 while this one is slightly different (I deleted a few lines and exchanged the placement of the first 2 stanzas).

Good luck, everyone getting your taxes in and getting your refunds and your rebates back! Maybe next year, we’ll see some real CHANGE, some real tax reform where corporations might actually carry their share (or more!) of the tax burden; these says, corps cover under 15% while in 1940 they paid 50%! While businesses complain that US corporate tax rates are the second highest in the developed world, when loopholes etc are factored in, it is the third lowest in the world when measured as a percentage of gross domestic product. The House of Reps passed a bill to end $18 billion in tax breaks to oil companies (like they need them when they are making obscene profits thanks to Bush’s policies!). These are mainstream facts, gathered from today’s Parade Magazine (that hot bed of Marxist journalism).

TAXES

taxes are like the carrot on the plate
i never wanted to eat they get
older & older & less appetizing
just eat your carrots someone might say
it’s not that simple

i have to get them done to get the loan
to keep my house from tumbling off what
little foundation it has & landing
in the bottom of the barranca to
wash to sea it’s gonna be an el nino
winter they say & i believe them i
can feel it, taste it is time again for
rain whether i am ready or not
the sea is hungry

taxes are a cacophony of chaos
bits & pieces of paper swim
with alacrity flutter up to the ceiling
dive down & kick up the silt
i am plankton & i can’t breathe
in the churning turmoil of these taxes
i dare the cats to take a dip they do
jumping on them rolling through them
simple things annoy me i hate to see
things digitized tile, sheets, every day
objects i am irritated immensely
by the swirly taxes the multiple piles
the endless pieces of receipt they
refuse to behave to get in line be
orderly i am embarrassed by their
ganglike swarming their lack of precision
they threaten to rise up take my throat
take my house no one understands the
power they have these are people who
balance checkbooks who possibly know
how much money they have it’s not that
i even owe in fact i was to live
the month of august on my return
return
return
return to a place where the taxes live
in peace domesticated instead
i live in the land of the wild taxes
i’m trying to shoot my way out with words
these numbers just aren’t mine

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