The Wand

I am buoyant in the wonder:
Can they not see the faces
Chiselled
In the low-lying constellations
Hovering over both of them
Like dizzy artists on ice?
I watch as the stars suck on
Green bottles, sip Vodka martinis
& fond over each other like
A thousand Hollywood muses
Crowded into a W. Hollywood
Apartment; as Orion as he
Draws another whaft f/ a
Half-smoked Havana & as
Delphinus winks across the sky
At Hydra, though she's looking
Passed the Dolphin & dreaming
Casually at the Lyre.
These are the towering spectators
& the calculus of their culture
Will mediate the events that caper
Before me;
I want to know what's it all about…
Lepus laughs a tad &
Taurus said, "I'll raise my glass
To that…"
Not a moment left to doubt,
I looked to see if the race had
Fizzled out, but sure enough
In the pale arena there was
Treasure, still ahead, w/ the slight
Leaning to the left…
Suddenly a shock:
Before I could retract my words
The windows locked.
Trailing: 1-2-3-4 o' clock…
Lightning speed,
We were off, & like a cosmic
Astronaut, I was in worship of the
Breath of colours spiraling down
Into unknown masses, ready to be
Born.
I glanced behind me one more time:
Phoenix' wings are spread,
Horologium looks straight ahead:
The clock is turning 8-9-10-11-12-13...

Rocket Science

Suspense drowning
The tonsils of my sorcery;
I question my own
Magic, when up in combat
W/ yours.
That chemistry could forbid
The un-folding of
Winter, much less her
Apprentice!
Red clouds copulating
Between the heavy commas
Of our eyes as they drift
Into opiate orbits
Surveying the indefinite
Silhouettes of what lies
In between
Words unsaid & words,
Traditional, unbothered,
Painless.

Wrinkle

Symphonic jungle:
The dashing of the xylophone
As I curl my toes in oceanic shock.
I stretch
My memory in hopes
That I can retract that evening
On the mirror-like docks:
You handed me the full moon’s
Storm in a calescent bassinet:
One flower that would have me
Tripping thru waterfronts
Dating back to
Aphrodite’s first appointment
W/ a laden apple.
Your eyes trickled honeyed
Sapience & I glimpsed
The secret history of circles.
The forever winding of radial
Complexities immersed
In a liquid salutation
As you dove back into the sable
Blue & drowned upon
The rock-n-roll that the stars
Let rain & rain & rain…
Who are we in this serpentine
Voyage?
Fish-faces. Looking-glass-sages.
Sold-out-fortunes
Wading thru the carbon-copy
Visitations
On a boat-ride thru impulses:
Distilled chemical romances
Spiraling each other.

True Blue

How do I capture virtue
W/ a camera or an epic prayer?
It's floating in the air
Like a voltaic murmur, amphibious,
For it knows the sky
Is really a secret ocean laden w/
Chrystal wishes & aqueous
Amenities like that time you
Kissed me
& I tasted like aureate champagne.
That kiss was a flying fish,
A pneumatic messenger
Being born into a million
Microscopic spectrums that maybe
Looked light some immortal
Paradise: thru eyes of virtue.
Beautiful features are what
You want them to be.
As is, any vantage point
Of human nature; as our we;
No moment is ever wasted if
It's lived in love.

The Mermaid's Purse

So, what are you waiting for?
There's the seriousness of our revolution.
It's lies here... a somber willow tree
Desiring the density of an oak:
It wants to put down a bottle of gin
& fall w/o the drugs
Into an apocalytical chamber of belief.
I'm losing it.
I'm losing the metaphors &
The chimerical touches of creatures
I invent thru musings upon abstract
Talents; I could deliberate poetics or
That truth that is all fucking poetry.
All poets are getting at something.
Some of them try to reach epitomes of
Comparison; some of them try for such
Metaphysical intangibility;
Some of them paint fences to keep
White horses safe; some of them like
Word games; and some of them just like
To see/hear themselves speak.
Poetry is the breeding of Science &
Art & the their child is Honesty.
But this time,
I'm responsible for a mermaid's treasure
& goddamn if I'm going to be
"Feminine" of "Masculine" ---
I'm who I am, kneeling before you in
A puke of libretto
Facing you the facts: take me to the limits.
Take me & my heart to know
No other place than the palace of stars
You painted long ago when you said
You knew me. You loved me.
What I hold here, in this purse, is
Everything.

Curious Obsession

He prefers telephone wires.
He prefers to look at buckled staples
That have rusted over & under
Public information.
He chooses real-life but endears it
Fiction.
Classic elegance.
He prefers rocks.
Clear skies.
Trees & undoubtedly
Crumbling red bricks of antique
Architecture.
There are literary tears nearby
To replace the soreness
Of reconstruction.
He makes a note or two
On a tattered journal
That looks more like a tattoo
F/ Hebrew scripture: it's a style
That you wouldn't understand
Because it's liquid-fire w/ a sense of self.
Sense to bind itself together &
Even throw itself away.
Ah, the destruction of poetry.
He wonders to himself where that
Energy flies to.
His perception is a sacrifice
& as a spectator of him, I only know
Him as the strangest muse.

Overnight

My halo is bent.
& I continue w/ a fragmented posture.
I'm one-of-those
What-do-you-call-'em...
Angelic-harbingers-of-misapprehended-
Brilliance...
I take existence & turn it into
Consequence
& after all that... I whisper things like:
I am Aphrodite!

Hallways & Hallways

Photographs lend me no alternative;
I must confess,
I wear a million dresses
In the given space of a day.
There is no mistake, 999,900 wait
Captive of a dreamgirl's wake
Into a world that will never change,
Therefore make,
Any headline; they will stay a
Forever-rain-collage perpetrating
As honest art in some surreptitious
Palace;
I know this. I've been there. I've seen.

One Interpretation

You're the harlequin muse I wrote about last dream,
The face that has changed w/ the spiraling of my evolution.
& I do search, in movements that wave in tropical-like
Holidays, for the qualities that define brilliance.
Not to ever possess, but to inhale fairy tales I have
Never come across: recognizing heaven is as perfect as
The indulgence of the moon's music, as is strums
So gracefully across the strings of some honey'd sea.
I like to gaze upon its symmetrical wings
& assemble images that come to be synchronicities
Between myself & that of whom stands before me.
I like to kiss unhuried bliss & name it names
That only translate under the cool blisters of water.
I jump in to the aqua-scapes of many men & women
Swimming in the cosmic wilderness of a fantastic fate.
Here we are, lost spinning things, feeling our way thru
The colours of some absolutely infinite ocean &
We cannot define & every second
Spend great lengths of human language trying to describe:
Idealities & philosophies... what it means to be with you
& the correlations of feeling truth as it seeps
Into morning coffee revelations or in the monotone of
Cigarette smoke: intuitions of people: opinions:
My truth & equally yours: distinctions of love, like & hate.

Sometimes I Create

I'd like to live in it, w/ you Love:
A sea-shell palace erected f/
Bizarre Altantian topographies.

Naked foliage
Of our bodies as they breathe
The music of the ocean into cool

Patterns on the planes
Of a starlit vision: we become
Elements of eternal ecstasy...

We become mandalas
& I turn to you in a fishlike fashion
& drum possibilities of circulation:

Spirals.

Spirals, now swelling...
What's beyond the whirl of a galaxy?
It's ours... illuminated,

Un-dimensional.

I wring brisk harmonies that
Summon sable doves into the corridors
Of a moment that may have been

Only a flicker of a candle's memento,
Had we considered
The reality of truth or the truth of reality.

The failure of glass...

The failure of glass
Upon the passing of fingertips.
The sharp sound of its crash
Onto manila linoleum.
Drugged am I, every time
I make eye contact with you.
& as we turn & disperse,
I'm left in this scarlet dress.
A screaming trumpet,
Walking the tightrope in a
Publicized parade.
Aftermaths of Oriental bells
Rendering the art of seduction,
Ironic metaphor to my
Sedative gaze
As I brush the jaded grass w/
My now competent
Fingertips & fade
Into the violet tongues
Of those sugarless clouds.
A flute enters stage
Uncontrollably & dives in for
The theft of a metallic kiss.
It's a Hollywood romance &
I'm stuck somewhere between
Belief & skepticism
For the length of an electric
Pause...
An ageless famine.





Aphrodite bleeds into frame
W/waterfall arms & a cataract
Of pain as I feel my heart
Begin the welts
Of love's legendary fame!

December's diaphanous slaughter

January's delphinium daughter
In this gypsy garden w/ dazzling
Petal'd wings & an affinity for music.
An original aerial moonflower:
Resembling the haze of Aegean chrysoprase:
See it thickening along that lovesick watchtower:
The one w/ lavish, coral veins
That hang like bleeding cranes, over the
Majestic bank preserving Sappho's last hour.
Here I spent thousands of days,
Adrift in the mystique of a circadian swordplay:
In this high bungalow, kissing stars
& getting lost in the reflections in the reservoir
As it ripples & distorts the sirenian love-songs
That sing wordlessly behind my muffled breast.
I worshipped the ambient sound
Of waves crashing up against the weather-bound
Island: & the resonance that seemed to overpower.
One wintry morning the leaves whispered low
& for the first time I felt I wasn't a part of this
Art noveau painting; I had faded from it.
I elected to fly down into the flooded cascade
& trade my lotus wings to any mermaid
Who might share the longing to exchange perspective.
There was sugar in the summer draft
Lifting up my skirt against the rockshaft
As I climbed onto its rough bed, a shameless girl:
Legs spread upon the rock, frantically panting.
As the next surf swelled upon my body, I became
As soaking wet as the sea, enchanting the play
Of some water nymph or master of this realm.
F/ my salty lips to my capricious toes, unconcerned
What I exposed: the angle of me: directly begging.
O behold the bedlam of the oceanic boys,
The gods who make that moaning noise creep up
Into my lungs: such a gift: audio-sex-transfusion...
Drizzles of the rain teased dim
& penetrating trusts of the sea slid in:
Magic, no less, as I came to realization
Along the mouth of a regal hue.
I looked down at my shaking legs, only to find
A tail instead: & a peculiar smile as I jumped into
The future.

Ships

Charmed by the slow dance
On the ship
Headed to Key West.
We're alive,
Under the faerie lights
Color-coding my inspirations
So that I may sing to you
In indigo-filtered proposals
Of burgeoning love.
I can hear the dangling of
Nirvana suspended
In the starry sky as we drift
Along the arms of America,
Musical tourists,
Tripping on the mechanics
Of poetry...
I whisper my lyrics, again,
Into the deep excavations
Of summer
& am asphyxiated by
The intensity of your tongue
As it echoes back to find me:
Your burnished spiral
Piercing the limp corners
Of my feverish heart.

Fable

You sneak out of aqua shells &
I think I see you smile at me...
I might have blinked.
I might have dreamed...
This isn't your mundane belly dance,
This isn't about a snake charm;
This is about falling, like raindrops,
Into a whirlwind,
Into the thunders of love.
I am metaphor, always, plucking
My harp or swaying my arms to the
Songs of spinning sirens.
Fortune resents the gales of this:
How possession never has justification!
& along that hue,
Never speaks w/ a rift or vocation...
I am metaphor!
Even if I summoned you w/
The coiling of my waist & hips,
The slow relaxing of my fingertips,
The conscious bowing of my bones
Onto these cool tiles
Where I sweat in handling just
The instrument of imagination,
Would it still be a fable?

Telepathy

Is it the fault of a cloud,
The way I utter words that are asleep?
These candles are only kindled
Under clear skies
That surface in moments
Where even when I scream
Crystal pyramids of deep-pink poetry,
You're never close enough to
Suffer the stain.
I want to smear this language;
Like a wet painting thrown out into
The rain...
Then what we'd have
Would be the clarity of genesis:
The easiness of character,
The reach of your lily white fingertips
To my jellybean smile.
I'd open the curtains,
& feature the irony:
Nonaligned, this melting eclipse.
I'd swim at you w/ kisses
Because
There'd be no need for a spelling bee.