what giving creature is this

something like a whispered song

Tuesday, August 30, 2016

after loving

you're as tempting to me as a voice in the loitering ear as a finger within the melding folds as a release of the theological moan as a breath of the jubilant tear as a quiver in the harmonic deepness as a lure of the rushing smile as a parting of the governing limbs as a nuance in the presiding glance as a kiss on the shading mouth as a tongue on the greedy flesh as a...

Monday, August 22, 2016

pray

now comes my father prostrate in his own garden ebullient and free: he readies his solomon's temple and God enters in a slow descent green goes the tightened apertures dilating the corrugated irises of the closed mind and i leave and arrive he seeks - my father - to burrow down into the valley toward tranquility peace is peace no doing no meaning pitch from the canopy of pine floats down upon me; the grace of a garden with her black-eyed susans and...

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

pammy

pammy, so verbally pale, yet soaked with the wisdom of mothers, saw her boy sent has life been good to you? has life been kind? has God of others been God to you? or did all the heavens burn up and her angels fled the day he was flung in the night and left crying? we are stolen in our time from embraces and from calamities and we leave our loves and our lovers longing we're...

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

pietà by my side

pietà by my side draw me that pitying picture of The Mother cradling her spurned son that has inspired all those sculptors, poets and painters to live, a poem must die in the lap of the poet resurrected by the source of smashing love tear it down tear it all down and pietà builds it up by my side in loose lashes of the pen my partner in heraldic play hand to pen to paper the mother and the poet sacrifice their children to brute betrayals and...

Thursday, August 4, 2016

tally

takes the tally and makes his mark the fouling driver hollers and the hungry hawk hums with a brute lash he makes her a prisoner with a knife to inner thigh lie still and yield mine mine mine he marks - mine he marks - marks his mine tick tick itck she unmarks and unmarks singing in her head's head a hymn from a former glorious field wandering and he makes the the blade thrum 'cross the chrysalis flesh pleating it bleeding her of her senses feeling...