Thursday, March 24, 2011

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
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

Saturday, March 19, 2011

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

Thursday, March 10, 2011

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,
congeals into
the ties that bind