March 10, 2014

are you a museum piece or living the recycled dream...

dea e demone della meteorologico, astronomico e astrologico regna

I, by diving
trying to fathom her

I swim in what
I think she is

she scant scent traces
my fantasy by loom

I swore
I met her
dark eyed
dulcet brunette
stopped me before
to burn me wise

interactive touch screen
I slept dreaming
a first person rpg
stealth hybrid puzzler
inventing and re-inventing
immolation mechanics
between midnight and dawn
Victorian psychedelia
gas lamps,
cobbled stones and
a coal sooted lewd
a clung to and tugged on
pervasion of ego and let go

how many ways are there, she said
one can say, without a word
come fuck me between the lines

I finger
what she may
have just said

matters not, it does

a couple thoughts

she has me
molecule thin
balloon to burst
she is
a velvet honed
lovely disarming

she orbits my humanity

I planet-ize by crawling
low tide emotional impressions
wet sand grains
and outpost lichens

poems, she says
are summer roses

your hems, I say
have me in poses
they’re poised, wanting
me to lean in

hike and hide in
my trail chaos, she says
mine my treasure
fertilize the equanimity

she weighs temporary wisdom
with an everlasting fool

says humans
are living cages
soft flesh
to diamonds
with knowledgeable 
thirst for salt

I build
your temples
to grapevines
you’ll thrive
by smiles
I feed the ballasts
to keep you
sphinx riddled
and very much
part of me
here and now

for perfection
is a stormy heart
never stopping
long enough
to get there
to become aware
the past
and future
can’t bridge
why, the soul
always ought to be
bleeding bones

homing in
on desire
each birth,
each death
each knee
is another mouth
open to the rain

the things, she says
you’ll need to survive
when you forget
how twined
to eggs you are
come springtime:
collection plate
a cup and sword
a forty dollar crack rock
for the resurrection and
a fuzzy plastic fetus
to hang as innocence
in the rear view


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