I AM WATER
A kaleidoscope,
I bleed color.
I am the red
in my panties
the morning after
a grab
and a twich
and now
you must leave
(Now, now
and with me
unsatisfied?)
….yes, here
we are once
more, a reprise
Did you think
of it again, of
me, as the rain
prodded you
to stay in bed?
The shape of
my heart, a
pulsing bruise
eludes me
like the taste
of your tongue
the way your lips
would meet mine—
if you would
let them
but no
no, instead
we bite hands
lick teeth
Beneath your
languid cool
lies a shiver
(a quietshiver)
like the lifting
of a blanket
in the dawn
of early spring
And you thought
you could hold me
yes yes
I sense it.
It stirs my soul
from madness
the affirmation
of your need
into which I
breathed life
(I am Creator)
I can bite away
my want, keep
it caged behind
my teeth
Prove it, you dare
Trace the color
of need.
my mouth opens
and closes, desicated
in its solitude
you said you would
you said…
(Don’t you understand?)
as if I were
a thing to touch
no no
I will elude
you, eternal
I thought
we were one—
I am the soft
bud of a bloodroot
opening—o—o
pening
slowly
like your lips,
so wavering
resistant to my
fingers in spite
of your need
to part them
with my thumb
and let them
saturate
in the sun…
(Kiss me,
you’ve already sinned
at least once)
I undress, alone.
I let down my
hair, liquid
tendrils for
you to hold
I float,
wanting for flesh
on my diaphragm
I am the unborn
bud, needing only
a drop of water—
a taste of
your tongue,mouth
and more sun
no no
these forms
afford me
no good
I seek another
in which to cloak
this human form,
this pink flesh…
(Can you decipher)
me like this?
Will you find
a body amid
the shape I take
as I crawl
towards you
there
elbow by inch—
or just a shadow
in the sheets?
I myself am
not immune
to the light.
You will try
to find me
there
(my God, you will)
with no eyes
to watch
But
no esoteric mode
no meditation,
(though you
scream your
most guttural
plea through the
blinded dark—arrr
aahhhhh)
nothing
of form
can help you
understand
All the shapes
my body takes
when
I become
water
The Lumineers, “Slow It Down”
Scott Matthews, “Elusive” (Live at AOL Sessions)
“All Alright,” Fun.
“Joy,” Iron & Wine
ON DRIVING PAST CONCRETE WORLD
pedaling backwards
down the interstate
past markers of
nothing, save home
the Apple Shed
Concrete World
Bill’s Guns
///////// old relics
from which
to seek and
breathe and
seek again
You are a
place-holder
in my mouth
which cuts
my tongue
I elongate.
I reach for
a branch to
grab your leg,
the taut bark
of your calf
a memory
I brush /////////////////////
Were you
the traveler
with no luggage
who gave your
heart, wholly,
in alms?
I cringe in
separation
of touch
from body
a paralytic
with an arm-twitch
A hole in that
canopy of trees
there
we were lost
amid the pines
that never died
a frozen heart,
lackluster in
the bleak of dawn
who will shoot
the apple and
watch it
fall?
We drove, we
moved—you
put your hat
in your lap
as if you needed it
twigs snap
as you whisper
and I?
collapse
I break the earth
with my yell
I scream
in a pitch
that will splinter
your arm
if you can
now feel it
like a prolific
breeze in the
wild of noon
I could have buried
myself there, so
out of time
my ears, my nose
protruding from
the ground
in ignominy
I am myself
no cleaner than
this dirt
I am the spring.
I resist //////////////
this burial,death
your hand against
my cheek is a
rear-view in
the dark
I squint.
No luggage,
no sway of
the trees
your hat gone
I ferry on,
a pedaler.
Driving in circles
to find my way
home
and while
the gentleness
of your fingers,
your palms
fan over me,
white phantom
sheets //////////////////////////
borne against then
against the past,
against you
I lick the air.
the hair peaks
on my thighs
pinpricks, or
rain drops
apricot-peach
my eyes flash
back to your
your chin, to
your teeth
so white
with the promise
of spring
////////// and
so much good
will soon ripen
I will search,
I will amid
Guns
Concrete&
Apples
pines and all
the fallen
be it though
the future, a
vine of grapes
d angling
above our heads
Fleet Foxes, “White Winter Hymnal”