Landine's Long Day

"Everything works in under your skirt" that was a quote she once heard

When the stern mind turns to comfort children
they wait arrayed in bundles of finery.
The wheeled roots are beauty and the look.
When born in a whirl of maps and pencils,
your only hope is arrival
the knowing women,
the magician who burned down the bush
escape and silence
clarity with
camaraderie
and the faithful dog
of the free man

Landine pushed and shoved at the practical. Her main thrust was the pixie dust. Feeling fine in glad rags that drift on lotioned skin seemed to be the thing. To carry out even exciting plans was often too much trouble. What she liked was to be acted on. to be affected and effected. Hence her devotion. Magnet to the action. To say that a man is mine, is the potent portent portion. We all know about the thighs. What is poured white? Every plan has an aim, but some may rely on ricochet. Woman astride, and so on. This is my devise. Milo my love. The stranger lover familier to no other.

the body at ease. leaned. the woman in a pen. All this and more shied away by glances of perfect perfume. As daltons of paragraphs collapse, damned by the tendency to repeat myself.I slam. but easy slam. round about what the eyes were surrounded by. what I mean by slam is am.lotus in the onus. winded in gasps. a relic of what is grasped.Mother, we chose the same chinese wallpaper. petted and petted and petted and stroked, it was an unlovable dog. good god. the worst named thing is jellyfish, which should be called AngelGod. The spirals and coils that delight profoundly regardless of the sting. Swat at the distracting,darling- I am distracted by that. The juggernaut made a thousand swats.The hands shaped like how they cup the face.While I twine, lovers dine. My fate is to be a pool.Wind, relax my strap. Lover, my bossy harmless. I entreat in perks.

dull teeth
the curse of a wife
compressed in lead
a single mate
ever imperiled
risked
by exiles
sharpened to exhaustion
and left
both scalded and poisoned
in a bed

Fortitude
aching the back
eventually
is prodded
by serene plenty.

Once you were
a girl about town
with piles of jewels,
the romance
of an uncomfortable
voyage,
and the future
as beloved
Queen.

Then all you were
was the sun
not speaking
plainly enough,
unsure
of well being
and bringing
a circle
to certainty.

a warm still day
crossed by my longing
because of other dear wishes
what leaps
is seen through a screen
here it is
what is mine
a hand that grasps
at the trumpet blast
ready to give
in full measure
to relish it!
I spin and spin
to a possible place

deeply felt negotiations
the force that erupts from heaven
long we live long we
work
awakening naked
in the yard
now it is ours
now it is real
the rich man waves his wand
I am a transparent heat
in the home of the patriarch
to think too fast
to bring weapons to the party
and finally
the lady cries her eyes out

three pretty hills
and peacocks exchange a meaningful glance
the perfect lady
is at home in temple
and brothel
destiny satisfied
privacy blooms
what is mine
rubs my body
the fair
the furious
the scales that weigh pearls
and the full feathered breasts
of the birds

The Strange Cement

How fluid, even gaseous is the idea-what seems a glittering vapor
is in fact, the strange cement
composed of dull thuds and petty shames
Stark raving horror,
silenced,
congeals into
the ties that bind

I see the reeling unknown
while frozen still
rooted in the sun
I tip my hat
dazzle life dazzle drama
I look to send the good word
though I've been out thought
and shocked
by the beauty who has seen too much
the toppling of the wicked tower of London
and the Calais
engraved on my heart

In the starlit math
allowing for sleepers
describing poise in
natural collapses
deep solitude redeems
feet bathed in the sun
suggestive glances applauded
emotion in the distant night
flame hat letter
red touched apart
in practical surroundings
oh fancy man question master
ladies body ready