Thursday, September 29, 2005
grace allows to be seen | that there will always |
| be a tomorrow | (again and again) |
| today. That: | the show must go on |
| like: | sex as bonding |
| like: | us as ‘team’ presentation |
| or could be: | the moment you don’t greet me with a kiss |
| but | blank almost, preoccupied with whatever hat you are wearing |
| a courteous kiss: | blank on a cheek |
| check: | your change, your coat for: |
| stray | hairs. De-brief me, knowing it |
| helps: to | get my attention onto you, no |
| real care for my tensions | only get the story out of the way |
| then: | play the hetero-part, all controlled charm. Just don’t take |
| me: | (will never ever) under the bicycle shed to the |
| lecture-roses; your | boys will be back soon |
| and other more | fanciable friend(s). A pursed cheek offered, curt, done now, through – the night’s performance |
| achieved | part by part by part... |
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
| that the comprehensible was simply a ploy for you | but |
| considered a contract by | |
| me as if: | worms bought forth their |
| dead or: | as if once yet once a- |
| gain you | turned your back: each |
| little supportive act from me | reinforced |
| a: | pen |
| (but only because you: | wanted to buy yourself another, bigger |
| then again perhaps a: | book recommendation |
| like a: | dog rewarded |
| for: | good tricks |
| and like some other | kind of dog |
| left before: | 7 in the morning |
| your body sick and tired | and craving more |
| : | solitary |
| : | pursuits |
Monday, September 19, 2005
| that the imperative is already the indicative for me | but |
| not for you | |
| whether: | as a flower, unfolding |
| or: | as if a leaf unfurled, speeding |
| up or could be: | a branch wavering against a backdrop of anything |
| a: | light beam refracted from sun |
| to: | a window pane |
| to: | greasy wet air |
| then again perhaps: a | spider’s sink line caught – its home a |
| becoming a | |
| belonging. | There I searched |
| (and all similarities). | (Or |
| at least most others.) | And |
| did not find |
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Sunday Mourning
I am not the dulciloquy drazel tree
You are boulted
The dulocracy of covers
comforts me not
There are tares dumbfounded
as tautest sinews
lest we break
we body
we muscle
we feeble-mere masquerading grip-teeth
we a sheer smile
we daily multi does-its
duly pull foreover
frattéd, neverthless from bookshelf
depositary or maybe some past
feudal brain intellectephony
a fluidism
upon slim
upon ankles
gracious wrists
compliant fingers
a thin sweephair cheek flourish
Armchair feigns its fiduciary recompense
Temporarily only to the Altar would I, hobbled, hackey
after the priest’s personalityless house-keeping
his never-a-fumbled unfolding
level as Spirit placing
only the chalice’s silk pea-emerald sheen
swimmingly unseen post expectancy
Host repositarrying
gold embroidered
ensymbolled
ah-cloth
Anesthesia need
“What - , what do you think we shall grow old and decrepit together?”
you asked
No, not if after the night’s intimacy
you reserve the broad daylight
bachelorhood headline
beaming barranter’s
your go
your hag-leave
your yawn journey
without kiss not even a single grey hair from
me
Jointress I am not
Shot branch brackens its private
good girl flaggered propengenity
into budless dead
scales. Bark dogs.
Rebeggared now as if widow
Pillows’ indorsation quasi-carrion
mocks an enforced celibacy
now a carbulled pretence
Bother me not
Drive to your domestrivial detritus won-zone
and label us all:
our little spines
glutteously
done
I am not the dulciloquy drazel tree
You are boulted
The dulocracy of covers
comforts me not
There are tares dumbfounded
as tautest sinews
lest we break
we body
we muscle
we feeble-mere masquerading grip-teeth
we a sheer smile
we daily multi does-its
duly pull foreover
frattéd, neverthless from bookshelf
depositary or maybe some past
feudal brain intellectephony
a fluidism
upon slim
upon ankles
gracious wrists
compliant fingers
a thin sweephair cheek flourish
Armchair feigns its fiduciary recompense
Temporarily only to the Altar would I, hobbled, hackey
after the priest’s personalityless house-keeping
his never-a-fumbled unfolding
level as Spirit placing
only the chalice’s silk pea-emerald sheen
swimmingly unseen post expectancy
Host repositarrying
gold embroidered
ensymbolled
ah-cloth
Anesthesia need
“What - , what do you think we shall grow old and decrepit together?”
you asked
No, not if after the night’s intimacy
you reserve the broad daylight
bachelorhood headline
beaming barranter’s
your go
your hag-leave
your yawn journey
without kiss not even a single grey hair from
me
Jointress I am not
Shot branch brackens its private
good girl flaggered propengenity
into budless dead
scales. Bark dogs.
Rebeggared now as if widow
Pillows’ indorsation quasi-carrion
mocks an enforced celibacy
now a carbulled pretence
Bother me not
Drive to your domestrivial detritus won-zone
and label us all:
our little spines
glutteously
done
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