i yearn for the unveiling release
of the artist who can open life
with the stroke of
the brush against canvas
she paints with blood,
and each approach is the
forfeit of her virginity
again and again
such an artist longs for
an appreciation of her
existence and must stand
naked before the canvas,
ready to give birth -
a rendering on the weave
of her pale womb
and the pains of it are
tidal, each stroke
a violent lashing
against the quay
built with...
Friday, May 26, 2017
Monday, May 8, 2017
her smile is the thing
my mama, she holds the puppy
in one of her black and white histories
and her smile is the thing
a bare-footed gypsy in the
early years of her epoch,
building up those resistances
i think i might believe that
that smile is for me-in-waiting,
because i called for her even then
her youngest child, who
would be heir to her runty,
her lush...
Friday, May 5, 2017
lost joy found
i see in you a flicker of the joy
that hides now in the well of this grown man
a flame lit when he was an active boy
a prince of all the fields in which he ran
a certain seed was planted in the rows
within the hallowed virtues of his youth
it is with love and life that something sows
to bring to fruit the wellspring of his truth
and in a time he sees the goodness drowned
by all the labors of the evil kind
who whisper death to joy without...
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
the love of many
i'd wish for you a second
lover's lips
to sing the praise of your
passion's passion,
for the largess of your
engulfing love,
how it spills from founts
to
overtake the seas
love is not a bound
volume, to be spent
judiciously or loaned with
the frugality of
the moneylenders, but a
thing refreshed by
the vitality and desire of
the giver, who cannot
stem the tide any more
than cease her heart
i'd wish for you a third
lover's lips
to...
