Tuesday, July 10, 2007

From Moths (1999)

Part One: Ip

a kissing curfew

the exhausted gold of summer as a penny does leak
as height is to tennis so as breadth to the boulevard
length is a boat
be seen in every moment of it
forgiven passage in the instant of spending
we got all our time together
rushing beneath a rushing sky
kissing against the curfew of courting
look to your calendar
accused count out the faults which show how good
for we were
crossed the street when we came to it

things passed

plastic bag balloon the past
I like a cloud it must be
blue as an eye is to itself
it is self-sufficient is it
bird colony light
blue reflects from the slats
transfixed to the
this isn’t vertical illusion defraction
or no thing expecting some thing like
no facts no thing of substance no
yes all is substance less you no
it matters what the paper weighs
sorrow is falling to the feather weight
piercing your blinked lashes
if you don’t see this then you are blind
it must carry like a migrating spider from whose radial lair shine utters out to flies past empty windows € € € €.
the window web gives out onto itself looks to itself saying “I feel I fell I feel”

the system

they could do a lot with this place they
doubling could twin it with the fern demesne
lock it in the feathered atriums of asylums
wouldn’t you not be so care less?
as rucksack to the rugby to an egg left over from festivals tapped out in cobbled squares below sculpted grain halls where king k. beams and burrows for his jewess beyond the vista whose milk brow is creased and plundered because she cannot grasp the issues of the letters you did not write to me dropped in her basket like a nest to read later
you let me go but I didn’t want to be
let go anyways here’s to you “letgo”
but you could have come to me in
or then this place my mouth on your breast
you said like a frond would brush
that nothing would spread out milky spines
broken promised and splay its lips in loving you
coming you in this place
our home and our prison and
our protection from the metal heating at us
vast rectangles of solstice corn four!


the rain sings the casement blame
forgive wind sighs the dirty flue
your ringless redoubt hand strokes
accept my open palm your eyes reject
bent your back bare
all still smell of semen frissant heavy with orgasm
no talking equals no smiling was
is this will it be it the
point to a time when we lost out?
your back bare bent
damp creeps through the course meeting
discussion bend creaks the aerial
the freedoms blame of being touch
rousing round and round the aroused
s.garden looking round the corn

your bent back bare

untitled one

you abandoned me exciting a wish
I was woman too to hold onto you
feathered heart or I would be brilliant shell-
wing├ęd moth feeding on your mouth
mmm you might sweep and break me from there
life in your disgust uncertain
connection and my action only
moth-eyes weeping are seen
“few understand the mystery of love or know insatiableness and eternal thirst sat down at the never ceasing table sated with savouries and sweetsweet things.”
kiss me would you not one last
languor a hanger one of lust I-performances
am needs there is flying in what you bite off
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