For A Girl With Dark Hair
Poem written by
Stanley Gemmell
Book One
The felicity among us, very bright, young girl,
counter weight and melody, slow, moody
ocean... salt white and warm, crisp wave...
Mordent joy, morganatic, scorpaenoid... windy.
Why when weeping (constant love)... your
face changing. Sisters darkest luck... windy.
Raven, you. Light traveling through a solid
to form shadow, you. Love, bearing. You.
_____
You are ivory, caught. Several fluttering
butterflies. Between all things, you border
Hesperides and heth... hibiscus and mercury.
Six sided love. Love made sweet by the sky.
Your eyes and their salt.
Lofty, exalted harvest.
You, the sea. You, light.
_____
You. Tiniest bundle of opposites. You land mass
at the edge of the sea. You. Rigging and sails,
fish shell and pearl. Pale with worry, pink,
fragile rose. Hiddenite, lithium... tranquil bower.
You, girl cumulus, made from the ascent of
a thermally unstable air mass.
You, girl out side, dense, green. Forest spirit
at the coast to the sea.
_____
You red. You where forest meets the skin. You
basin. You solar. Cloud covered quick.
Forsythia, mustard seed and sea-blest, yellow
sea weed. Ocean floor stones. Eddies...
Ornate arpeggio. Hammer-on.
You, ocean. Full of contradiction.
Beautiful sea horse.
_____
You are ivory caught... fandango... roses strewn
at your feet, imperilled...
Your warrior's fascicle in your hands,
mixed leaves of winter, grey, summer
and dawn...
Tusks outstretched, slender fore arms.
It is your task tonight to draw the circle
upon which rest the machine-flowers
of Man. His strange beauty is lunar
and lingers, still when near you.
_____
Let Him bring his suburbs to you.
When the sky is pale and red and purple,
let him sing his mangrove, his purple salt.
Let Him sing his suburbs to you.
When the waters will echo his song.
Let him purl and mew and cant.
Thickened, shrieking cheekbone,
high and haughty... figaro... poetry.
_____
_____
In this dream he has there is a picture:
Suddenly looms. Blue sky split down
the middle. A divided sky half night.
Black with wild wine and stars...
Crazy, beautiful silver like your eyes.
Aching, osculating stars... and bright,
yellow tusk of lune...
Adjoining clear noon. Azure...
Cumulous clouds like daydreams...
The sun in the same sky, like a logic.
_____
Zagreus' False Bay like Zion.
Street Road like a Zodiac.
Thought and song into regular
eight or twelve degree intervals.
Intoxicated, stupefying and whispered
names whine like a high wind, forming
colonies.
Your gaze of marble.
_____
Your gaze, diurnal...
Your gaze copper and gold bits, silver.
Your look sudden... absence.
Your fragile, cresting, sea foam
tragic bird wings... your angel.
Demeter's demesne: dementia;
and you are all steel and blue and
grey and sharpened wings.
_____
Soothing... stroking dream with soft flesh's
hand. Smoothing sweaty hair back into place...
dreaming fever... and whispers... silent, mostly
(except for love)... quick, dutiful clicks and moans.
Clucks, teeth grinding. Staccato heart
beating... sacrifice of self-interest.
Beautiful, self taught divinity.
Tightly mouthed answers to prayers.
Moss and ivy run... sloping.
_____
Finest down upon your arm,
dark interstate weaving...
You are ivory caught. Silks,
sullen fox furs...
weeping. Gentle light, gold
and gray. Face screwed up in pain.
You are pleasure pains.
Lightning... spectacular, staring scars.
_____
When, like a high wind, you re invent love...
There is a great felicity among us.
When your red dipped wings fan and shir,
shaking beads of moisture into the morning air.
And your look becomes ironic
because there are thirty,
simultaneous words in it.
Life folds its wings into your wings,
exhausted... falling asleep.
_____
_____
And just as subtly, modern forgery
arises breath in the lungs... loud,
the chest echoes in the
sound... noticed dreams,
proud, shining nor'easters...
shaking yes, little girls, corridor
codes (someone dragging something).
Love is warm. Here it breathes,
dreaming.
_____
Shifts, aching... love sick.
For girl (muscles dreaming).
Sore back and arms and shote
like intelligence. Irreconciled
elegance, dreaming forever.
Shoulder should stiffen.
Weal shoveling, brutal ivory.
Fastened to the tip of the tongue...
Scripts... show bills.
_____
Sweat, rivulet... shoulder blade... sleep.
Apophatic angles. Abandoned cellae, re
entered... thickly. The hot scent of dizzy
hands, eyes... flickering. The quatrain
posted in the porticoes. Daily foams...
harborage, refuge. All of marble
(the dream).
At the boundary to this dream you
unbuckle teeth of loam: they are
grave markers... your belt.
_____
Beautiful, grieving moon.
One hand to your head.
Sorrow... unconscious...
born into a single sign
to encompass the century
with vague desire.
Regret stains your words
purple... song.
_____
Your granite films.
Your circumstantial poetry.
Your carefully masked ambivalence.
Your gentle rocking.
Your rhythm and blues.
Your experiential logic.
Your fundamental kindness.
Your absence.
Your absence.
_____
Your dreaming. Here where
the light collects... dislodged
from death (where it had
waited for you), woman.
Slender brigantine.
Gem-encrusted fable.
Extrusive palindrome:
thirty-six petals.
_____
_____
Like a warm rush of sunlight
flooding the veins (you approach)
magnificent and silent... tall and
slender... you have two, emerald
ice floes for eyes... aqua sea stones,
arctic landscape... ova of light...
drenched in frozen poems, carnal
and staring... crystal, oxalic mist.
Gorgeous, gazing owlet.
_____
You are ivy, caught. And dreaming.
Living vessel... Atlantis... green
and sleeping, beautiful wheel.
Clover, chrysanthemum... cloven
aurora. Bigarreau... truffle...
Lost road... pastel... new direction,
cacoethes... new moon... again
virgin.
_____
Grateful to your goddess,
song of all women... fox red...
Artemis... huntress.
Melancolia... virus.
Lilting love-clot.
Ivory foveae,
damp with rain.
Skeleton key... Valkyrie...
Handmaiden to Odin... eyes,
two white stars.
_____
_____
There is a swollen interval,
a knifeblade of light is
riven into the river as
it empties... out to sea...
There is a wild, sweet singing
siren... cobalt and eel-like...
scaled and sacred... seductive.
Covered in mist. The rain siphons
the sky. The wind picks up
over the crumbling coast's rocks.
Then it is dark.
_____
Descent. Upwards. Musical.
The language leaves off your flesh.
The red mangoes (the breasts) with
their fleshy strands. Stayed, always.
To devour the sugar with their hands
to their mouths. Musical. Upwards.
Resurrected, joyful (words dense
apricots).
_____
_____
Glissando... Teuton... Your dark locks.
Orphic drink... cascading midnight.
Like a black waterfall.
And richly lustered crimson,
bitten... thick tresses.
Thin strands... almost liquid,
jet on porcelain skin. Very pale,
almost transparent... pink.
_____
Your hair is blown by the wind.
Your hair falls in bangs
upon your clear, high brow.
Unconcerned, yet intense, your
gaze cuts this darkness like
an emerald.
Your lips are two petals of a
pink rose.
_____
Your hair is porphyry, full
of crystals.
Your hair is like the feathers
of hawks who fly when
thoughts grow dark and high.
Sadness... your lips as supple
and full as they are tragic...
Your hair is the dream of
a sleeping, black tiger.
_____
Drunk on your hair, the storm
grows more wild.
The pale moon is reflected on
your cheek.
Your neck is as soft as warm silk.
Your sloping chest is a cadenza.
The history of your hair is a black milk
(taken from the moon, when it is dark).
_____
There is beautiful agony in your hair.
In your hair are quartz, obsidian and coral.
Sadness & Anger... in your gaze
life desires madness because
its grace is too great, and weeps.
And when this happens your
eyes become poems...
The city a giant, gray mirror.
The coast, facies of emotion...
_____
And whole hearts ache
with sudden longing for you
(but they don't know it)...
And your tangled and deep chaos.
Fair and beautiful, beloved woman.
Star and sky... stone, smoke and sea.
_____
_____
Lipidic, white feather...
Feast of the federal district...
Lupine fay... favored daughter.
Fauna... lunulate Eurydice...
left behind... subtectonic...
Gorgeous... Satanic... sartorial.
Salina... nifritic lake...
Dressed in yellow, hydrous magnesium.
_____
Salome, septuply veiled...
Euphrosyne... Euterpe...
(glancing, grace filled muse).
Carpellate flower... poisoned
(already Cartesian).
House of Peace
(removing one of the seven
garments at each stage
of the dance).
_____
Dense, acute angles give birth
to obvoluted forms, as the petals
dry and become words.
Round, smooth pears. Areola,
pink aureole.
Thirsty, decapitated autocthones,
scarlet and lilac.
Morning wing and rain,
happy again.
_____
_____
Foretold in the furnace
with green, opiate smoke
(your distance becomes love).
Your forgiveness, the stinging heart,
the clear bowl of water
(your look of forethought)...
Blue, the sullen heart of Gypsy...
hachured palm of hand.
_____
_____
That other you... monochrome;
that other you (at the edge
of the sea).
Little girls, insane.
Inside you, fearful and dark-
rubies. African violets...
Aspects... analogies.
Dependence on others
(the warmth of the sun).
_____
_____
Islet, in relation to you the text
does not copy... nor does it
deviate... instead, reacting to you,
to your thoughts (your warm, red thoughts),
which were incorporated into its repertoire,
the text rearranges existing patterns
of meaning.
Islet, we approach you singing.
And among us... great is our felicity.
Great, also, are our momenta:
freedom and liberty.
_____
The textual system (which also
includes your photograph)
cannot cope
with multifarious reality...
your great beauty...
the pinkness of your body...
the salt of your body...
(love's sweet song) all
this moonlight, lazy
in your hands...
too much attention is thusly drawn
onto the text's deficiencies.
_____
Green and grey
eye of the needle...
Eye-light's islet...
Eternity shivers in your gaze,
drawn to its text, its young
and rainy weave...
While time casually braids
its grainy absences into
our kisses (which are stillborn
and as precious as diamonds)...
Have no fear of weeping.
_____
White, carnal wolf. Musical bridge
or khora. Always occupied, doubly
invested, self-exclusive, difficult,
undiscovered place.
Tangled threads of your hair
bind death and love at the wrist...
touch one of your ribs...
liquid, green dragon lair.
Choleric, damp, sleeping moonstone...
dreaming reckless melody.
__________
____________________
Out Take: dreaming a sky
of opening eyes...
_____
Dreaming a sky of opening eyes,
you find poems among the stones of the sea.
These you bring to us
when we are in the desert,
dreaming silence.
Your poems of beautiful silence
are shaped like fish and invent
new flying machines or flowers
made of bronze and pearl.
_____
They are stained with saliva and blood.
They emanate unified fields.
They make professional encampments
for the purpose of sustaining grace.
They are hypercharged.
Your poems are chaste and carnal.
They represent a movement from
the known to the unknown.
_____
They manifest spontaneous simplicity.
They travel the spaceways, calling
planet Earth.
Your poetry possesses the dignity
of lightning. It disappears. And our
reading protects this disappearance.
The words (living, open secrets)
form a narcotic honey.
_____
Oh that the high wind
whistles and moans,
interrupted by cicadas,
mist and silver beetles...
It is your face in the wood,
metallic and green... poem
and moving picture.
High above fly shadow forms, of
terrifying intelligence.
_____
The lover (dreaming desert)
both feels he knows you
and finds you impenetrable
and unknown.
He thinks of your poems that
they are so beautiful he should
have found them.
He is sick with anxiety at their origin,
language, which are speaking bones.
_____
His love is a ghost-ship,
incessant and errant,
migrant and random,
passing through loves as if
they were prophecies,
fortunes told in patterns
of shifting dreams.
Visual and wandering and ancient,
in love with an immortal spirit.
_____
The only person he may speak
of his love for you with is his
rival. Who also sees in you that
exquisite grace and delicacy,
and fearsome power of the sea.
Everything contains the risk
of gossip, jealousy and confession.
_____
Gossip makes of you a third person.
This news to him contains magic
(the various threads of his love)
yet is insufferable and tantalizing,
recalling you. Recalling you
as a bloodless substitute,
common talk talks of you as
one of the dead, half present, half departed,
but his love makes you a figure for truth.
_____
For the lover, every time he sees you
is a festival.
These special days make him happy
and insane (yet an incomplete madness,
a metaphorical madness which frightens
no one and does not consist of thought,
since he protects the thought to love you).
_____
There is a dedication,
an amorous gift.
Words become cocaine,
heroin. LSD, exstasy...
There is a game of souls which
borders the ordinary world.
The stakes of the game are
vanity or perfection.
_____
This sport takes place in The Territories.
The lover flips to The Territories
and inhabits the long plains and
ranges of low mountains, fields
of tall grass and streams that flash
through them.
It is there your poetry is found.
And that other you (monochrome),
metallic and green.
End Out-Take_______
__________
____________________
Perforce, Somnus lulls Celaeno,
the black one, plumes on her head
(do not look directly at this),
there is a cavatina, bucking hips.
Purified, in this Magician's Circle,
you belong to him...
What, then, are you?
_____
Woman, hydravascula, milk white cardioid,
with beautiful, blue-green eyes... soothing
aching heart... welcome sun and moon light.
For your birthday
a cup of water.
White light.
Into your heart, reaching...
seduction signals no exit.
_____
Your woman's sex an aigrette...
Tufts of moist plumes, dark.
And on your small mouth a frown,
for you are thirsty for kisses,
missing still... still yearning,
from your tiny home of mothered pearl:
Cytherean cystoliths... hardening clit's...
dissimulating cherry.
_____
"I used to touch your face
to make sure we were real,"
your words tear drop poems
elusive. The throat always trembles
at the thought of losing you:
your friendship, your words,
your breathing. Now the white
winged dove, your pale speaking.
_____
Your harrier's eyes narrow,
your heaving chest sighs,
indeterminate, your sad,
telling fortunes... coughing.
Again you speak hydrographies,
celestial reveries... the thick,
stirring heads of daydreamers
between your thighs.
_____
What then, are you?
Loyal, celibate Master...
Young woman with a knife in her hand.
Transforming into a bird...
hair as dark and wild.
Unruly shadow, absent
strength of light.
Narrow vision.
_____
Your eyes, celestite, to keep the
festival of the dead one.
The seasons of your body,
already scarabs...
Twin, red rose buds
of the breast...
Celerity of song for the purified,
lunar mansions.
_____
Quick! The rare needle!
The visions!
The baleful acts at the Names
for due pleasure...
Azure garments crimson.
The gaze, the gateway, the wind
which is saved from the water.
Darkened, woman's winter.
_____
_____
Sleep creates a real woman of a painting.
Collapses the distinction between
secondary text and originary.
The lusty woman with plum colored lips...
Thunder and hail... Almond tree blossoms...
Purim, the feast of lots, commemorates
deliverance from destruction in Persia...
Your birthday.
_____
__________
____________________
Tired of beautiful Hel.
Eyes full of experience.
Smiles covered over w/kisses...
Hemic cosines, cosmical abscissions
like watercolors... the Absolute.
Your abstruse beauty.
Your abstract negotiation.s
with absurdity. Your abrosia,
your wasting.
_____
You browse on your lover's eyebrow
writing poems in the sand;
you unflinchingly expect paradise
when your requested massage.
Bronze star...
Moon crater...
Brunette rumor...
Pleasure clot...
Brown study...
_____
Chrismal, beautiful tears...
Your weeping, rhythmic images.
Your inspirations set to the phases
of the chorion moon.
Christlike in your charity,
your abundance and your chromaticism.
Chosen for other-worldly...
_____
Melt, your green girl's Orpheus
drinking desert... osmotic grace.
3quations... Avestan, source
of light.
Dialogue of the wind and sea.
Music ornate & florid.
Avalon... Ancestral destiny
or origin.
_____
Inverter! Ceaselessly beautiful...
Gold, ivory or lunar clavicle...
Honey grunt of bone.
Slope of sleeping pale.
Sudden darkness, flushing red rose.
(Simple, clear eyed sadness,
going home.) Enclosed
in crystal structures.
_____
_____
Unclouded by the breath
you hold our crystal structures
to the sky... angled,
to peer into the heart of the light
coming from the slowly cycling
constellations of the rose.
Our salt fills your eyes
you are not always sure
why you are weeping.
_____
You are going home.
Back to your menses.
Back to your cinema.
Your boy friend.
Your images. Your
Ithaca. Your
unborn daughters.
_____
_____
One day, when you were young,
your mother (her hands wet
with ichor) told to you the story
of how the sky grew grey
and darkened, falling in love w/her.
She felt terror, she saw beautiful tempests
tousling the golden summer's hair...
She said the egg you were born from
spilt red wine when it split...
_____
Fait accompli, you were in secret
named Peril, you were yet pure
and soft and white.
Maya...
Men sing.
The origin of the world
a Narcissus, a street name.
The origin of the world
is song, at the edge of the sea's name.
_____
Your azimuth still floats
cross the water, slow
years uncouple poems
from the force of your birth.
The angle your origin makes w/your eyes
leaves open hands and hearts:
men and women vie for your trust,
poems grow long and dark in your hands.
_____
Tempus, gorgeous...
Vandalic goddess...
Maya...
Men sing.
And great is the felicity among us.
To know you, and your poem.s
and your name.
_____
_____
The mythical landscape of your thigh
seen through the dreaming mind's eye
and splashed over with sunlight
and hidden, beautiful, yet obvious
meaning.
Love calls to you (sometimes it seems distant).
Lost in your lonely dreaming,
your dark hair is tousled
with kisses.
_____
Poems alight upon your eyelashes
like bird-songs.
You know their names.
You feed them.
Sometimes, when you cry,
the poems hold you
and console you...
aethereal...
angel.s of light...
_____
And the golden light and ivory
of your skin, or its jet
and its negritude...
And the copper-golden
sometimes streams of natural tresses...
or your womb, delic...
magnificent, oracular...
Delphian, delirious.
_____
The short lived Shangri-La,
in shambles.
Dolphinae, Etruscan pleasures,
the soul... drugged and kidnapped.
Stolen beauty.
Stolen moments.
Stolen faces...
Shard-born and stealthy,
living shank of poetry traces.
_____
The sick, beautiful and insane
twisted traces of poison
in your hips...
Murmurs balanced between your thighs,
joyful and weeping.
Round like a guitar.
Angular. Polarity.
Polaris... gentle, white star's
corrupting, sexual gladness.
Beautiful madness between your legs.
_____
Dead. Delusive allegory.
Perfect for other-worldly.
Physically immature and deliquescent.
Simple tree of dawn and wood.
Rhythmic... green and purple image.
Wash The Lord's feet with tears...
your sacred May.
This deluge. This delight.
This delta...
This poem...
_____
_____
__________
____________________
Book Two
"Being apart
from earthly
interests..."
The wicked character calls out sticky,
sweat clings to the body.
The body oscillates... at once otiose,
at another moment pouncing, feral
and red grinning, stained with limestone
upon high, angular cheekbones; ceding
the chamber, the highway and the very
rich homes covered in lattice work and
laurus.
Still, cerise in the mouth and love
all movement, you come to this league
bound by a miracle you consider Lazarus,
cetacean slick skin for water weaving,
when you change shape... growing razor
thin, steel-like scales, structured as the
cypress, upon the lower part of the
body.
_____
Sweet fish, sweet dagger...
Builder of labyrinths and cyphers.
Sicilian in the eyes and stare,
gorged on sweet-meat and perennial
berries.
Periphrastic in the hips, whose sharp
slant and angles betray sexual appetite;
and whose leanness is the result of
receiving legato songs of rice-birds
and chasing after them.
Always small pored.
Always rhyming.
Carried along by the blue grey sea
seen in the triangular window of
the pelvis... messianic and sleepy.
_____
Crashing numbness of lyric patterns,
beautiful in moral character,
lower flesh all pins and needles,
face to the foam splashed breakers
of a sea which foams crimson at
sunrise.
Mètis of the eyes, which cradle
amber hallucinations, as if thousands
of green flames licked you... but
caused you joy.
Between the legs, myriad snake tongues
and poems... Whisper night, which is
literature, which is your name...
And your fathers' and mothers' names
for six generations.
_____
_____
Aesthesis, pure music of light, eternal
recurrence of the female divine...
Look, in power these once dead
daughters of glorious days...
Come to your equivalence.
Poetry, particle in wave form
(probability doubles/us)...
Purple in the brains or loins,
whispered, juridically zoned, tiny,
metal flower, pith on the lips,
telecaustic chemical. Yellow
money.
_____
Lengthen your intervention.
Panties at the ankles, interveiled
nevus on your body of mirrors, sadness-
oasis... interested in everything.
The names of the ocean tides,
moist on the thigh and mouth...
Navigant! Omission of the seals
for the pattern of Necate...
Inferno of sleek tongue kisses,
slurred South.
Tender and curled, ventral indigo.
Dark, singing fever. Inexhaustible
Aria.
_____
There is a new inertia.
A new trouble of space.
Morning. Trace
of sunrises.
Narcotic, swollen word-bellies
piled on the sudden insistence
on silver.
Donor Whatever, colophon of
the counter-balance, comfortable
in your own skin.
River of footnoted kisses.
Baby crying at morning.
The most beautiful demand.
American ruby.
_____
_____
Waiting at the shores of that other poem
(the poem is your name)
Muddied distention, dragon of the river
Tannic, all-seeing
Taught a manège
of the underworld
breathing smoke and fire
like a veil
All mannic
Again fever
_____
_____
When for a time
there is fire and lightning
on the mountain
And the drum
(evolution of One
static age
into another)
Archetype, beautiful Mother
of yourself and Fever...
Your underworld
(not different from Ekelöf's)
_____
_____
Your Jungian psychology
(not different from cyberspace)
Virtuality... Echo...
Before Juno mother of self
different Matter of lust
your finger stained in clay
& All of the above
To address you by name
freond
There is a single, alphabetical
listing of Same
_____
Your passion sang-froid
safflower
Between the thighs
of a musical god
Whose flute you play
And whose pipe you scar
Bearing the marks
of small teeth...
Whose glyph is your signatory,
Signorina... signal to Satan and sigma
Whose letter your signet
to disabuse the stealthy...
Ritual municipality
of Play in self and transcript.
_____
Above the crypt you keep,
two wooden idols of the breast
nipples beige with warmth
Rubbed by mirthful fingers
In the space of death
Small birds listen to your shout
At the river's edge
(where there is no control).
_____
_____
On the St. Lawrence river...
your pale pink skin glows
beneath dreams shaped like sickles.
Leaves of grass
Quebecois
Forest green velvet of stares
as the nude quarto
of nubile, peach quartz.
In the nautilus,
the gently swaying spiral,
an experimental resurgence of sea-vines
makes you cry, and you become
more pale.
Swollen with kisses...
swelling sea-tide,
amber needle.
_____
On the St. Lawrence river
Forest green raver
Girl of the fish and sea
And now air
As the elements mix
in the air of the body
Sadness slows the tides
Love relies on restoration
No one, besides you, beckons
quartz from the fish, the air
and its poetry.
White plumed girl of the suburbs,
fantastic egg shell...
_____
On the St. Lawrence river
there is an apology
of the sea and sky
when suddenly fire is seen
in the palm of your hand.
There is a new inertia.
Corruscating martyr of the inner thigh,
adept at forgetting...
Clavier of the breast and breaded
belly, while the stars braid your name
in Spanish.
_____
Cedilla of your sex.
Hyphen of navel.
Hypothesis of fur.
Coup de grâce...
Lyrically spoken girl...
Machinations of pitch...
Utter darkness, your hair, long
and arduous. Ripening over
your pinafore. Percussion of hope,
evangelical.
Do not concern yourself with time.
You smell like blood
and sound and love.
_____
Girl emerald with darkest absurdity,
lime thighs and forearms, long in
the shoulder and musk. Neck. Hair,
kind and long and thick. Data of
navy blue jeans... aleatory fuschia.
Beloved, emerging dragons of the
heaving, sighing belly...
Fingers long and thin and used to veil
weeping sonnets of high, angular
cheekbones painted scarlet.
Dark, long hair
Arabesque repeating
...fullest lips of silk are crimson.
Long and straight, thin
nose.
_____
Downward to the look
and inky
Forever knows all your kisses
When the sounds you make are the ocean
and you are full of home
Being apart from earthly interest
Tall and oval faced and keeping
your magic ivory, pale and weeping.
You have become captured by interest.
The world then seeks to explain itself
by you; and thus are we grown happy.
But, are you? Fragile, cinnamon cinder,
are you?
_____
Your face is the sum of too many parts
and too beautiful.
Cold North and Polaris
intrigue you.
Your hips are castanets.
Your wrists are tiny cymbals.
Bring your gory, empinkened viol
fretted with pearl of the sea...
gentle translucence
Letters of the supposed foreign
tongue are girdled at your hips
_____
_____
Mercury. Great loss of indelible
and cold feeling...
Oil in the intertide. Your beauty
intervenes.
Now the moon is cratered
Your lower back
is curved
And light becomes sticky
near you.
_____
_____
Privacy and rain...
Otic apotheosis of the apostrophe;
the ear sings god when anyone
addresses the stone with speech...
Your glorious deorc hair triumphs
Among the rose, the orchid...
Something trembles...
Words become islands
Your hair is an archipelago
There are tide pulls of varying thickness
in it
In it also is the apostasy
and rejection of sleep
Your hair contains a secret.
Symbolic warnings...
_____
There are apparitions contained
in your beautiful, inner thigh...
Your knees are pales
Coacervated crwths
which, when relaxed
beneath the mouth-suckles,
involuntarily indicate the administrators
(Ones who gathered paling,
Colluded Shoguns,
Coincident axes of wet kisses)
by turning red and goose-fleshed
And they who migrate
to your sex, less rarely from vision,
listen for bird-song.
You are the sunrise
(which also contains The Ghost)
_____
Your Siva sex sings the palinode
Your mouths grow damp and warm
Your moist, green sigil is the apex
of the red, soporific pagoda...
Voracious sativa of the approaching
sense
(Since, once you were not in private)
You are feathery and secluded
You are advanced, yellow prisms
How do the relaxed citizenry rebel?
Yet, they do. And, you panting, moan.
_____
Your undies are a little, caked-red
aerie (thus the bird-ghosts attained
higher altitude in the migration,
reddening the thigh, which also
runs red-wet and translucent
in both directions)
Everybody loves you
And your forest-stare denotes
arousal in others
Why bother dying
The sun also rises
in death, and fear,
and ownership?
__________
____________________
Autopsia! Hidden Muse, infinite,
silent, conversant…
Stretched mirrors! Claws.
Scorpion.s of the fore-arm.s
Ceaseless Beauty! Tender, floating,
wild-green cay overgrown in celandine.
Moon of the darkest phase and camphor
Slick. Ritual. Oils...
Fabulous Animal! Drakon Muse. All-
Seeing Eyes, blonde below a
beautiful forehead.
Imperial. Death-less Root.
_____
Blood stains hand
Placenta
Firey islands
Lingerer...
Esther...
Morally fantastic, hypnodromic Nymph.
To God with the Eyes and Dust.
Black-wing coveys
in your hair
mutilated wings.
Singing thickets of
dark, Italian sadness
and joy.
_____
Crater! Crashing Bacchant...
Sudden, stealthy Smiler!
Muse bleeding light...
Compress! Carefull Star-Crab
with six, white sails
(star bleeding black tears,
stars, salt and song)...
Corrigendum!
Abacus with six letters
Girl with dark hair
and honey-swollen...
bees in your dark eyes
counting days and nights.
Limpid, iridescence of the irides...
__________
____________________
Infrequent glances at the sky
make quadrifid clouds seem
faster.
On, the beach, hands on hips,
slightly bemused frown on your
body
tells the world fallen asleep
dreaming gardens and sharp
teeth
you only came for one shot...
_____
_____
Pythoness, tell us again your
prophecy
How the world will grow purple and
song
For years you have made the sign
of the cross stand for silique
You turn your gathered seed
toward the ovarium of naked
light
Your legs itch from direct
sun
You say religion should grow
like a tree
_____
_____
Dressed in black, leather Dior
Mouth all flint and quartz
You make signalment
on a computer cave wall
Great is our felicity
Your fair and pink breast
Blue eyeshadow
Freckled lips
High and clear, wide and
burning forehead
Sloping, suggestive conscience
Every muscle discussing sleep
A clause in your desire
Stipulating doves
_____
_____
But we have our prophecy
and our blood
We have the cleft cloud's
conscience
Slow, lazy, pink nipples
Upon proud, golden
wheat scoops
Proud labradore
Rose petal
Delicate sorrow
Profile in strawberry
angles
_____
_____
We have our prophecy,
laconic model
And great is our felicity,
pink lamb
Dirty blond, braided
scythes in your hair
Morning grunts and bird
song and spiced twigs
in your hair
Mirrors and shards of
broken moonlight in your
hair thickets of dry ghost
_____
_____
Hurrying on the bridge
connecting dreams
and fire
White lamentation brings
you two, strong eyebrows
(used to the work
of fortune)
The sea picks up desire
White foam belly
You resemble lanky
willows crowding
riverside prisms
You are beloved by twelve houses
You gorgeous dawn languish
_____
_____
_____
_____
Impotent shades abandon themselves
at the abbey of your dark hair...
Long and thick curled, bitten
and rain measured,
rhapsodic
(songs are stitched
into your hair)...
Dark revery...
Orphic, sexual,
lyrical.
Existing also to revive
the rhizome
(the earth-root)
and fruit rictus.
_____
_____
_____
_____
Impotent shades abandon themselves
at the abbey of your dark hair...
Yet great is our felicity.
Great is our felicity
for the white moon of your laughter,
for the music of your ocean tides,
for the long ivory of your thighs
for the blue-green silver in your eyes.
Great is the felicity among us
for you and your dark hair
for you and the land, your home.
The stars above, the light below.
_____
_________
Composed:
12/25/99 - 5/27/01
USA
