Tuesday, December 10, 2013

drafts, roughs/unfinished

often I prefer poetry to be
not al dente but
al mooshy
the waters of going down
and the waters of arising
rush to drown each other while
the carpenter planes at my broken hands
the shavings must be fingernails
that rub barbmime on the moon
while the world unworks itself
disentangles itself from the great thought
that engulfed it in rockets and roses
when a nosecone whimpers at Orpheus' door
and the ocean knocks knocks
on its driftwood to beg
directions home to my hammerlock lair
there was not one wisp light enough
to waft me away to where I wanted
how to build labyrinths
for lip-readers to run through
sprinting toward the riddle
unstoried as highheeled lecterns moviestars
lie slumped across
begging for sardonicisms
to be married like Eva Braun when
after sharing the cake my spouse
shoots me in the head
is that better
than not getting wed
than ending up as a bachelor like me
your blood stains the gulag
not sure what a gulag is
the misalliance of woman and man
pratfall perfect the days
lucid screamings
the stuff that was once so chaff-lost
remains disgraceful descending
a staircase with a harsh-lit lipstick
on its helmet
deflecting biographies
the red bicycle girl leaned on for solace
riding horses laced with kidgloves
and gongs tempo'd by harpsichord
a tame lamp lantern
the last train to bordertown
momentarily limping I went
paisley piano and lassid storm
the estuaries impassable
weeping into your cravat-sash
pearls thrown off in a gesture that
bares the chest for pajamas to purr
gliding fingers over the flesh
and its ballroom blindness
synonymous with cleft
crying silently at gates with black ruffles
launches and nipples entranced for years
at last one dies
shirtlessly noir approaching
the virginal bike-rack panic floorboards random
gleams from white pantages
marred by faceshots and crowns akimbo
receptions led them both to palpitate
expelled from his white lapels he stood
motionless mannered
venue of blue
vein of whore I never loved
venus abhorred a while and stared at passion
internally appalled complicity of
abandoning my birthlings
incompatible as a pair of twins
and a pair of dice
a one-in-six chance of winning
the vigilance of death attending often
the shoulderblades mad-dog lowcut
subtle gowned and drawn to castanets clicking
forgotten your remedies for the basic
foundation cloud clusters or boats
launched skywards
serenity the gods offered only
to Versailles 


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