Sunday, May 31, 2009

after the weather placed hands on my body
it was a struggle
until she reached my ears,
how dare i disobey a law like that

my skin quickly came down
something igneous escapes

but you began ages ago

the hardening debris recollects
some idea, property, fact
but when, oh then

among our own retelling
lightning never did anything
the spiral meets the cross

within the wick, a tacit agreement
depending on who goes first

Thursday, May 28, 2009

airplane ride

inside of a mouth melting Vesuvius spitting saliva dripping wave pouring sailor mooring pop rock danger drop carousel belly flop inward thrusting sacred trusting mantlepiece dusting baguette crusting rooftop shingling arpeggio singing night lusting with an upswing pillowcase dirtying brand new shirtying trial by jurying perspired hurrying inspired worrying nocturnal burrowing showtune scurrying secret discovering metaphor hovering weathervane mothering pandemic wondering silver spoon blundering bugle player summoning parkside sauntering inflight pandering riptide cantering artichoke handling bandstand kindling beach day wintering blood vessel splintering turbine tinkering elephant whispering hey mistering landscape twistering blue jean blistering sailboat christening neighbors listening sweet potato tousling brown hair moussing laundromat discussing tireflat husslebustling tarantula enveloping lone ranger eloping marscapone callioping short virtuoso doping beat quickening lawn thickening waitress mimicking tortoisehare bickering acrobat hiccuping beet wine supping tightrope slipping pale cream whipping desert blustering allstrength mustering fastball flustering workhorse clustering championship muscling biopower shuffling rainforest rustling daydream hustling love

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

from the archives

the beginning

your tongue polished me
in the cemetery, there was rain pausing
above our heads for accentuation, then the cocoon.
you asked me what do you want to be
when you get out?
i needed to be an airplane

everyone was following, the moon
rose weakly, nobody worked,
i will steal your ideas--

the way you make something of me:
milk pours over the grain like a mother washing her child
so we only hear melodies, despite the workload

and that mess is ours, it wasn't planned
but we like it there because the sun enables earth
from beneath our eyelids,
i see you,
it is you
playing my hair as a harp

guilt is merely an arrow
pointing backwards,
we've moved continents
and poured oceans
down the


the pavement wears marks like a pirate
and takes memories of the times
our mothers put hands on our foreheads
searching for fever

embers devour us and grow
our vision emulsifies, skin and hair slick  
with dissolved minerals and dirt, chills roll 
up and down our backs like windshield wipers

you ask me to lie next to you
but not to touch you, a million mosquitoes
spill through the floor, covering our bodies

there is always permission to enter  
the in-between, you can survive
with your name

my bones crack
into powder,  

i am all that remains of the Egyptian pyramids

Thursday, May 14, 2009

i had to hesitate: am i inhuman? and laughed
the curse of the universe is certain for us
the gods are vengeance, that is the only demand they left behind.
i'm not the man i was, where is he going?
i too am religious, that is one of the necessities of nature:
in the mornings a deep silence reigns,
we had all the big names
here as a cathedral is built around a chapel

a door led to the balcony: they always play the same records
wagner, bruckner, strauss: they're dear little animals which did me good
the devil comes to make pleasant conversation: a moralist who warns of a grain of truth
first and foremost: how stupid of you not to make the most of this,
even hangmen would not be employed

what is my short earthly life compared to my victory after?
i am the tutor of successful democrats: people like me want to change the world,
you are the heirs of our Native America, Russian aristocracy and middle class, China, Africa, Cambodia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam, Cuba, Chile, Argentina, Japan:
victorious in a strange way, in America:
old traditions, old uniforms, love of a reality
loved by majority and carved by the will of the nation
whether or not we're for or against motherhood, the main thing is we're winning
there is no one nearer to god than the guilty.

is the inevitability real? who will be the next
is it in us? you can't tell
a lie if you have never told the truth
we only praised, as in life
what else is there to say on such a theme
beside dreams from the era of the light