April 4, 2016

potency thirst and hunger ..........................................................................( #NaPoWriMo2016 )

so I walk through doors 
knob turning the lion heads 
and there's Lot's wife 
smoking a blunt 

yes, yes-sing again undressing my sin 
in parabola princess 
to sit and spin mi la Popessa 
she weens me 
feeds me 
by bounce to pounce 
each ounce and bitten part 
of me in her poem 

I am a patient of hers 
bearing ways through her 
amniotic peel-walls 
her narwhal maelstroms 
her leaning and collapsing me
into each curled 
pearl of undertow 
fingers, frenzied hands 
in prayer position 

and every time I hear her Mmm 
and asterisk me my own hand 
goes left path southbound again 

so I try to catch every wisdom 
in the drops of rain 

this is where the rolling vignette-ification 
of the poem and dialogue with lust begins

sos  and now that I'm drowning 
here comes the harder part 
following up where I don't want to start 
talking about my incurable ass-holism 
it is a lot like gambling 
or drug abuse 
or drinking 
to the empties 
until the house is given away 

it's all the serotonin reuptake inhibitor's fault 
late night tv says I can sue if the meds don't work 
so why not fuck the system gentle in the light 
rough and tumble in the shadows 
my lady liberty fantasy likes it that way 
the rolling roles ride tied waves 
remember how to get to pickles 
and ice cream after midnight 

our written histories 
and tapestries 
of parlance posterity 
will come fashioned 
from plastic 
and bread ties 
a vagary explains to me 
when the comets c\ome 
and give us more oceans 

most of us get gills 
a few feathery wings 
and fewer still 
climb peaks 
and watch 
how thin 
they became 

why shadows 

sometimes it is better to be 
a paralyzed joy-poet watching
dryads work the magic 
of Spring into the glen 

exempli gratia 

freshwater crayfish 
have dreams too 
they seek images 
moving to tabla beats
sitar strings tam-buzz 
afar and near 
bilateral symmetric 
cephalopod roosters crowing 
about every mouth 
being a vagina shrine

this part is flicker light 
strewn through an alley  
tossed shoe silk lace  
bedpost-ed tide chambers 
a symphonic legend began 

in a made up 
or dreamt remembering 
here I was 
hearing it was 
me a self induced 
at times stymied 
thermal emittance  
mad writer 
on the fire escape 
listening high 
composition book 
and black ink pen 
hoping the poem doesn't 
run out on me 

jimmy hat lost keys 
found window rapping up the
tumbled stone driveway edge 
handful of river bottom 
maybe I threw the last one 
with too much force 

Sunday morning watching 
slag Sun rising 
o'er newly fallen snow...
Paganini tremolos 
tremble saber rattle pane-d wind 
broken glass for church 

today's sermon sea men adventure begins 
with the lattice nymphs 
telling their children 
to bring them breakfast in bed 
because they played each other's 
endless tender ferocity(s) 
all night inside vulcanized clitoris music 
they spent themselves hooding surrender 
to the sounds of their coy to very frank violin-ing 
said they were sleeping in 
and would be practicing again 
come dawn salutation tea time 

they especially needed nourishment 
having fended off armies of squid 
some time after the third or fourth 
calendrical movement, these squid 
who by being satyrs of the sea 
kept on trying to impregnate 
their esophagi with
seed voice choose me(s) 
guile knees and please 

lavendEr amber Moon teasing
the ease in side board 
bouquet banquet ware 
traipsing velvet drapery hair 
squarely bunted around 
their low angled coronas 
and wet oval clock works 

all I wanted to see 
was her time scalloped glass dish 
for the eggs and each wish
of braid, unbraid 
and ways she handled reins 
rope pulleys and explanations 
over the row houses across my street 
she was my wanton abandonment
basket reed-ing tickle belly noodging 
catching my babies  
in the clouds aloft 
as they race by 
west face hillside 
the best water climbs 
Poestenkill from old river 
to gain the Taconic 
ridge skinned carpet birth 
land of never seeing Pan

this Hudson escarpment 
is steeped bosom desire 
hearty rye early tree 
bent and stretch limbs 
posterior bark and beg(s) 
in bloom even under 
April snow 

we interrupt this poem for an important tangent mood swing 

something is...
haunting me 
a tendril lilting 
melody I already knew 
would soften me 
turn me into 
a jack horner plumber  
hymn palmed 
shore routine 
to get in 

she is Parvati and Rati 

every incarnate 
I came to tame 
but left wild 
brought me
closer to 
my own divinity 

Parvati makes everything 
snow white paper petal-ed poems 
hymns the loam thirst 
of falling asleep 
thieving joy every night 
knowing to keep 
an open window 
and clay jar 
to catch 
and release

Rati canes bees 
declaring that 
none shall pass 
unless crawling cut glass 
bleeding her whispered name 
a slow fist 
she insists we resist at first 
then exclaims that's it 
that's what throne wit \for a bit spit lotion shines with 

and this is about her asking: 

                       would we mind 
   taking our time               telling her 
          every eskimo word for snow 

I channel surf from here 
the monkey god s ssslow leaking 
discovery's jazzy jizz 
and I would mind being Admiral Byrd 
but if I could find 
every axis point 
wobble open door 
to y our kind 
often prefers  
cage and zoo 
I'd buy some air time 
at three am too

she calls me \/^\/
made a siren sneeze-y 
under white noise clothes 
I get these thoughts that 
trigger response 
mechanism origin orgasms 
mother may eyes again on fours 
daddy please dues due do doe do(e)s 
stretching the stars to point the toes and...

hymnal chant starts repeating 

they are Parvati and Rati 

every incarnate 
we came to tame 
but left wild 
brings us 
closer to 
their divinity 

EJR © 


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  4. Okay, it will drive me crazy if I don't comb the last section, so here goes ... and then I'll switch over to some "nice job" comments for a while:

    some favorites:

    "ridge skinned carpet birth"

    "in bloom even under" ... even undear; even none, dear

    April s now ... can't stop changing, or I fall on the floor and start to cry; rec-reating myself keeps me alive ... or at least somewhat functional

    "we interrupt this poem for an important tangent mood swing" ... it's the only way I know

    "something is...
    haunting me
    a tendril lilting
    melody I already knew
    would soften me
    turn me into" ... turn me in, too

    "hymns the loam thirst
    of falling asleep" ... I wish. That's all I want. To fall asleep and be at peace.

    "Rati canes bees
    declaring that
    none shall pass
    unless crawling cut glass
    bleeding her whispered name" ... This reminds me of Home Alone; how the boy sets all the traps to keep the intruders from harming him ... but he's sharp, and he has a lot of fun messing with them ... my favorite was the iron to the guy's face; man that looked painful

    "then exclaims that's it" ... ex-claims that sit

    "throne wit" ... thrown wit

    "under white noise clothes" ... like we're wearing fans

    "I get these thoughts that
    trigger response" ... Trig her response; Trig, her response ... I love math in poems.

    Very smart, the way you altered the chant. It makes this road you're traveling a journey, and you've learned that what you're seeking is not your own divinity, but ours (the girls you meet, befriend, and leave) ... you're not just trying to get something for yourself; you're trying to touch someone else's Divinity ... which is candy, which I make perfectly, which is delicious, but mostly just for Christmas, and once, in a great while, in response to special requests.