Poetry
Assent
Like leather between
the lips, well oiled,
dangerous,
she stands shuddering
sweat on her shoulder,
sunlit, tracing her from
nape to base.
Between breath and breath
the slash;
sharp on skin
still flushed with sunlight.
So fast the arch,
the sudden gasp,
the sigh.
Regret
lips like ours
not blossoms brushing
bruised by November
you do not touch
Me when you
touch me
bend me in two
twisting in time
some primal spasm
mouthing the words I've lost
bite me, scratch me,
run your fingers
cold claws,
nape to tail.
where is the signal
in this noise?
Unrequited
I've been around this block
a time
or two
so lets say,
just for the sake of argument, mind you,
and not anything binding,
lets say that I'm
captivated by your eyes,
mesmerized by your voice,
shattered at your touch...
lets say these things for the record,
and you can see them, when you see me,
thinking of you
I, I will be
washing the dishes in my
white porcelain sink
watering yellow roses
writing verse
but you can see me
pouring my heart into a crystal bowl
and floating violets there
in the shape of your chin
while I
blind my students with
grammar and wit
dream with Orpheus
ride with Alexander
you may well imagine
that I'm kissing you in effigy
waiting for you in the moonlight
wearing only hope and a silken veil
(I am a romantic, and we do these things)
I...
I will be on my porch,
watching the rain soak my garden,
and if I am thinking of you,
you will not see it.
After the Waters
I don't want a love song;
Once, soft sadness -
slow mist flowing across black water,
shadow-eyed children, grass and starlight,
last breath of summer on the silent lake-
waded into me; I was
Drenched, dripping with it,
sweetness that stabbed and lingered.
This dry sorrow
answers no verse
only
stone - grinds-against - stone
worn
down
to
nothing
(I don't want a love song)
reminding this emptiness
what filled it.