photo by Isabel Muñoz © |
in a slow boil
of current and form
waiting for the storm
while a hurricane rages
we carom
melody and rhythm
womb to tomb
ultimatum conduit
of who and I
arguing a mind
is after all
a soul awakened
what I wanted was
her boom bounce swag
to and fro in through
my books and bell jars
with her big hoop
earrings on, ring-a-ling-ing
sweaty clutch slipped palms
is not a woman most beautiful
and deadly when wielding her intellect
in opening herself
to bring you
into her heart
and body love
she does turn to rain
we explain to our hosts
we went out
splashed in puddles
didn't mean for mud
to follow us here
our hosts laughed
in slippery viscous-es
hitch ride enthralled
play sets limbo undo
most constructs
and concerns beforehand
her ass jumps out at me dexterity flare and saunter speed
control, I'm hooked, stealing under my blanket dreams of
lancing a temporary forever with my ugly stick
the fish the flesh the threshold met
what kind of music is this
flamenco salsa samba mambo
what jaguar to go far and strip
my defenses between us
this means I've surrendered
my eyes, listen the now for nothing
while feeling her fantasy with my
finger up and down in spine flight recoil
spring gate hitch aircraft aluminum lightness
with insistence of the tides ...
we know wind and water carve stone for daughters
Electra paused fire seashore pour iron tells
pull-salt portage while dreaming
breathable membrane osmosis meniscus
portal postage delivery rendered
body fluid poem by the night stand
the taming of the shrew, all men need learn to do
here we were where wear(s) aware
of wares housed our holy said only angels
we pretend to not to sin though we humans know
otherwise to visit desire regularly
and be it for a vice pleasure
then a demon is described
and be it for Gautama soul
then angelic is described
coin toss
duality
chance
nature
purpose
edged humans
way station weighs
waiting on trains
on time and tines
what are they serving
where you live
something not easy to fathom
does it feed frenzy further
rabbit hole revolutions coming
spontaneous arm-less uprising
love and joy tattooed more or less
or is it something less enrapturing
with captured death
and the bargaining
of privilege
for the new pieces of eight
parsed body and soul
until there's only holes
and ghost glow left
of what has really been
the old story all along ...
EJR ©
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDelete