Tuesday, May 15, 2007

WALL OF JASMINE

built through the twisted blades of someone's lunch

light we say we want but leave when the colors flash
alternately when the trees are too bright

it's not a wall, but a fork in the stop sign
we are eating we purse lips then wipe them
as we go on

you are the one who admits
it's me who really is the one who writes you
and who scents the jasmine?
i think of you
of me
of lunch

you never admit it is me
who is talking like now
you are talking to me
and i talk to myself
in these words
of concern for you

every night i walk past the wall of jasmine
updating my attractions
sometimes the air is sick with beauty
the wall is markers on mounded graves
vertical crypts of beauty
we i you dare not leave tears
misunderstood like theorums
used for their use
my tears are scents unto themselves
ourselves yourself

well of jasmine my life thrown in
harsh light yesterday candle tonight
neon future scent on the wind

scabgravesmell not avoided
but absorbed when sentence fails
ping pang pong

i stuff a bunch in my pocket as noonday workers laugh
and walk on to you

me
us

~

5 1 07

standstill windowsill

minty green tablecloth
spotted by sun

it is always spring
in the moving light

in the freshest water
the sleeping kitty

now
what to do
with spring?


~


5 14 07

preaching to poets

blah blahblah blah blahblah
blahblah breasts blah brook shattered by sun blahblah
kiss blahblah cobblestones blah blahblahblah
fingers blahblah entwined blah blah
blahblah warm legs pressed blah together
blahdidiblahblah laughter
in the blah hollow blippityblah night

Sigourney Weaver Undressed

i downloaded movie clips of her
completely naked front and back
she excites me clothed    naked,
surprised how she looked like a girl

from my past some link, some attraction
even through clothes how she saddened me,
her hips, her bush, hers and hers all hers
all so far    i googled her (my old g/f)

watched a video of her
(both of us fully clothed)
she looked the same
as before    as Sigourney

(sort of)    as all so far, and me so Hollywood-surprised,
so sad    now you, so real, your bush, your touch, your eyes

i watched the morning moon...

i watched the morning moon go down through wires
its speed was shown as was that of the earth...
remain so still and calm that breath's retired
and moving turns itself upon your worth

then you will see how quickly it all turns
at once you'll also feel the wrap of time
and too you might find love in sunlight's burn
apart together love makes daylight climb

we are a day away from little graves
we each are one abandoned and forlorn
together though we dance the nights and days
the music makes each day the day we're born

i wished you true; you are, i needn't cease
my love my movement under time's release



~



5 4 07

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

old muzik

Sense of Direction in the Dark

The space between is never dark, but still
is where I lose myself when I'm with you.
Am I you? I'm not sure, but know I will
be more myself to lose this dark for you.

This dark is soot, is cloud complaint, a day
that leaves itself for night, and thinks it's won;
mud of rude argument or silent way
of unthought speech, an old war never won

will not invade this space, this safety dark
our hearts have tidied, hands smoothed over.
Transparent plains between not dark at all:
we see within, across, without -- not over.

Let us be fools to let the world's dark be:
Come love, kiss dark which once was you and me.


~~

12 19 06