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.