Poetry

in stillness

wondering

why so living?

remembering moist ravine in

sheets slick with shadows

I come again to gaping

unwashed bed tangled sheets

stained and straining

with circular memories

cycle of bodies trembling

with fear

and tenderness

I have been spying on

your citrus kisses caressing

tearstained sheets

full of spilled children

one million broken eggs

open innocent stares in orbit

these burdened sheets beckon

big deep boney sleep

with tender forgiving while

my fingers trace your persistent scar

a crenulated chasm between us

I withdraw my bitten instrument

from the chorus of sweat

from your honeyed trail

now swarming with stinging insects

remembering

your withering kisses

your compact smile

your receding tongue

pregnant with neglect

I have come as I must

to this dissembling place

to this alembic bed

to this incessant remembering

this interminable farewell

wild with wondering where

you have gone

and I have come

and you are gone

again and again.

Just because I liked the fucking

sun today

I haven’t set it up

it’s true

Well, what else is there to do?

watch polar bears on television

with a sweet hope

but not pretentiously either

Create a fantasy

as a blissful burden

Hey, where do you think

you’re

going?

I’ll miss this floor

a thing being appropriate

can persist, it’s true

Tell me again

why I love you ?

It’s not fair

speculating here

what our

chances were

but I guess

real trees fall, and

tornadoes do come

after all

How good all

this profusion is

all these semantics

will have to do

And

love of war

like Homer

is forgetfulness

some more

Well, you see its simple

to see the simple

truth

I love you but

you can’t see what

that is

Like

a phone ringing elsewhere

duty and exercise

has to do with wiring

I mean writing

Like

giving birth too much

out of the blue

Nobody faults or fathoms

abstract insufficient dinner

of colors

But who acorns

I mean who cares?

If magic could be tomorrow

but it isn’t

Traveled here to hear

you yelling like that

it would seem strange

our first year

I’m married to this lousy mood

thinking I’d get used to it

you, who have no desires

and we didn’t die

Not even that night

you left

not knowing

where you were going

and I heard a bang

and I checked

the gun drawer

just in case

You may not

forgive me

saying this but

I still

Have

broken hope

needing to be fixed

I haven’t thrown it away

tonight

a bruise flowers

behind rose

colored glasses

while

an ancient rage

creeps bellysoft

to the sunken

fist of womb

a slender wrist

flapping in the breeze

a chipped tooth

a swollen lip

whispering treacherous

prayers

salt on cheek

blood on stone

igneous eyes clenched

she handles the dry boned beads

in the name of the father and of

slipping through slendering fingers

one - last - time

fallen fragments

of rude religion

of heart stone smashed

of implacable tempest

coiling within

a different burning

booted not broken

a diffident cataclysm

infinitely thick with promise

of a distant diaspora

and a cool, laborless love

As the light declines

the TV trembles

its slender line blinks out

and she walks out

just - like - that

they'll later say

while wondering at

the yawning stars

of a fugitive sky

and long lined road

sharp as a razor

she takes a step

into the vague windy kisses

of an uncertain future

while the neighbors speculate

behind thick draped windows

upon their frozen histories

and the house

where the stove pot overflows

and the dark laundry waves good-bye