It is 1961
Life is all around/ digesting the debris
from moon-belly, diagram of decorative spines
seed-vessels, pinked
In 1962
A similar species furnishes space
a small, narrow stem of the fringed polygala
[ in its laborious year]
star torn from its bodice ------- I appear mad and invigorated
open up between slits of skin
[1963]
Everybody glances wantingly at the gorgeous girl’s knees
kissed with sun -------
she is a dream in the voice-box, awakened
some furious fruit/honey/baby [two-lipped, four-sided]
absorbing fractured syllables, arcs
of fray
reckless, accidental ----- torrential honey-pot terminally delicate
--I appear, my eyes, nectar pouring out
of each ripe orifice
stroke the air and its bulbous vacuums
[it is] 1964
To music; thieving boys, human longing rose
up just past the knees how much is discernible? How much
up just past the knees how much is discernible? How much
is left to tremble beneath? ----I am potentially ajar, steaming with
flux [needle is said and done for the eye
flowers exaggerate with age]
------death adores her,
she’s not alone
1964 [it is still]
All I think about is obliterating the bay,
any bay, waving poems and bellowing ----- where God
any bay, waving poems and bellowing ----- where God
is a sensation of white noise and youth-spunk
Ariel, you witch, I’m invigorated once again
[we become photos of her most unphotogenic moments]
Ariel likes a landscape where everyone is lost and clinging
to their neuroses ----- thighs sore with necrosis
to their neuroses ----- thighs sore with necrosis
my plastic bag obscenities smothering your jollies
Ariel enjoys talk of planets in retrograde, women coming late
or not coming at all succulents in their late withering states,
once healthy children bursting with consumption
----to Ariel, their suffering is like an inaccessible breast
she longs for the painful music within it
1965
Medusa stopped him dead, so why can’t I?
This poem fits like a glove, the old cliche
I depart where my line ends; I am not endless
guttered and abandoned ----- he did things I would have laughed at
had I worn another skin
little tremors around the mouth
[ it is a thousand degrees
where my heart rests
Ariel enjoys the dense fog of wonder
[another] 1965
Real men fuck with indifference
pound muscles, broadly
I see enough to know what is, is
but don’t quote me ----- the gloss is obscene
[ where one comes scourged and sweet on the gums,
as unforgivable as God or bad sex ]
----- a little bloodiness left on the hands
the ruts are extra dangerous, shows skin-moves,
sin after poems ---- /doctor, I rubbed it until it slid
leaving jagged pieces of myself
here is the bad blood [ of a pulverized flower
----decoys of us apparently broken ]
///the untouched area between coccyx and navel///
Ariel doubts the lover who whispers in her ear
takes her hand as if she is suddenly stillborn
pink and blue around the corners -----
takes her hand as if she is suddenly stillborn
pink and blue around the corners -----
he likes to say she is thinner than heroin
shooting through the veins
Ariel doubts this, too
