One Month After Departure

Pleasure Victim


October 31st, 2008
Bailey's, Saratoga, NY

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She

1.

what men fear most
but must conquer
“robe of flesh pink”

“night shade”

“nymphae”


I have in me a thousand shameless
mouths, leather to harness the earth

still in its stance

& this pudendal
offering----water-to-foul---

soothes the aching brims



--Calliope

overflowed once
too

& stretched that spit of fire
to the farthest ear lobe


lover,

alone,

I shake with fever
the nectar drippings’ river gush
lapped-up thatches
thickened with hunger


barbarity to this be sucked [w]hole
while soothed into stand-still
............................
poltergeists

through dust, rain water,
a satellite tongue
slithering with neurons--



thrusts heavily punctuated
truncated

then placated


**
...................

we’re all related to the flesh
& harbor our deepest regrets
inside her cunt


sans delectation

sans temperance


may we visit nocturnally
& sleep carnally


where injuries grow full
with our swollen bellies

1.

you taught the bone-sparrow love
how then to feel its fragile neck crack

a thousand splinters etch a breath
& is cooled; a gentle swathing






2.

before reduced to erratic, the confines
of the palms in tremor



each time

you mention the warmth

of the sea spray on your thigh
your spine arched back to envelope the sun

I grow dizzy wonderment
in my gut, where you reside

here, there

all-encompassing
& warm







3.

I mistakenly place the rose bud
in a cup of brine & sweat & our secreted

lust


hoping it would grow, if just, if not
the thought of us wilts & withers

into the ocean's
temporal clutch





4.

& before us
a bird shall break into chorus
as if the last swallow of tune
would be enough to resurrect us

through dirge


the muted codas
of our beating hearts

Departure

for Leonid Yeske


distance shadows another dimension

a sea cerulean; subterranean

could be seen for miles

or in body, a profundity so deep

it stretches beyond territory

beyond

dripping sweat & where it left

yellowed stains on my pillow

of time & where you kissed

calming lips;

a parted bliss

so sure of their existence

to be much more than pulse;

a spark

in the form of utterance

***
I’ve dreamt of gliding

back into the vortex

of your thoughts;

a thrashing wave

ever unsettled--

where memory grows

more intense at 3am

thinking of delicate notes

that come undone

on tongue

fall back to where

you blanket me

so coolly

enrapt

in a cocoon of arms

& hymnodies

***

close lips & closer skin

thinking of stillness

on the ridge

of a mountain

stillness

like that of some shapeless

sea-green anemone

or a word that reaches you

through Morse

the wearied beat

of my heart

as it tries to elide

the thought

of losing you