Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Departure, repeat


Benjamin expands
like the body beneath him;
a breathing apparatus
to make memories with
and inflict guilt onto.

Was it easier before,
with a body beside him
almost faithfully?
He would make coffee
every morning
either for the taste
or as a means to burn.

Approaching doorways
he can only think of
her crooked back,
how the scoliosis
would graze the frame;
he never asked her if
this was on purpose

or if it was her intention
to leave him like she did-
the sudden disappearance
of something like a whale-
only to return now and then
just to slip silently into bed.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Normandy




Trapped in buildings
like pill bottles
and pills that I am locked
into taking

Frozen on couch cushions
I go back to the beach
in France with my mother
getting soaked in my jeans
even filthier than now

Even before minds could be
puzzles or boxes or
fire-proof blankets
I understood my hands
forging castles in sand
and the shells of parts
of grand ships that once
deployed soldiers that
died where I’m ruining
my pants

This was all before
I could then look back
to ocean water
and even dare to
contemplate reversing
the process

of 10,000 soldiers
climbing ashore
to 10,000 bullets
with one woman
walking past
and wading too far

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Ready the Body



Prepping the body
as though the skin were like snakes
as though the skin were like
etched Russian glass
beautiful, but to touch
may result in swelling or shattering
killing yourself
or killing it

To prepare her body
she must be illuminated
like the city under siege
torches, the flame throwers,
and candles for praying

Ready the body
ready, my body
I wait, baited for touching
that doesn't burn
or crack
the skin I've cultivated,
shivering under pretense

You're touching yourself

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Salt Persons


The saline content of rainy-day skins:
I could have licked you all over
and then some

Salt-licks and salted wounds
I was growing more confident with every flavor
I managed to scrape off your skin
with the prickled belly of my tongue

I believed I could absorb your being
as I salivated and your taste committed
itself to the insides of my mouth

Could you really take shape, though
in the muggy constrictions of my tracts
where I could tuck you away
and let you surface
as I walk away in rain?

Friday, August 7, 2009

Notorious

Get out
Move in 
Move in
I can push myself 
beneath the door

Sometimes we are careful
about locking
sometimes we just aren't

Like we're more afraid
of being caught with
our pants on in privacy
than losing 
to the infinite number of
thieves I know would watch me
if only they knew who I was

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Apparition



Grey grey
as in winter
or children
shouldering slowly across the grass
shuddering only

I don't want to know
how apt you are 
to forget
my face
in snow

I'm remembering your coat
braced for windfall
I recall
2am sighing long
in heated arms
co-haunting this bed

Your lady ghost
don't lose my shape
on the borders
of eyelids

Like children 
I've followed
halfway home

They'll remember it all

I'm here waiting
for arms

Call my name
I'll breathe with you soon
I better be there soon

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Bodies the Stems


Breathing in the garden malady
I feel I've spoken too much
I shudder as this sun kills another
The flowers are frying
Now I'm feeling the garden
as just some regal clutter
We are feigning fruit-trees
like towers between dwellings
what comes before me and
the man I love is a hedge
the gardener planted in summer
with leaves that won't die
are not dying
Perhaps you find me sour
Uprooting and replanting
the corpses they're stems
I'm afraid of them growing
sharp shearing, the trimming

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Ocean Rot

Pulling my clothes off
to head to the ocean
I'm tantalized by
these waters like
any woman
swim or drown
or dive for men
I'm not accustomed 
to heavy salt stains
on my skin when
all I asked for  was
to be carried
without complaint

I could cut you
with these starfish
I could sterilize
these scales
in oceans of formaldehyde
where skin won't
rot off bone where
I don't need to 
blink when I see 
you coming
Your fingerprints
are fused to me 
like shards of glass
or sand

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Garten, und so weiter

Lingering longer over land
I will not be melted by man

Turn to the sea
to the ice-floes beyond the sea
the fields
I left my heart under the Linden tree

I am haunting the flagstones
where Ottmar releases spiders

To ignore your flesh
I pluck the Pfefferminz
Longing for terrain
is practical
not imaginary
like wanting your words
to keep from cutting
so clean

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

In Grasses


Of fertility between cityscape, a respite from some sky-scraping. Allowing myself to be explored by insect, my body stationed between bark, I am the runway for plant-life. Wishing for grasses to sprout from my legs, to transform my language into this life. My words as water dropping in molecules, absorbed by the soil commingling  with the rain of everyone sucked into the veins of stems.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Diver

You are not the end-stop
Whereas I implore you 
to find some reason
in the dive
wanting it so bad
to end at you

I forget my trajectory
is exposed to salt-air
is prone to staleness

I am exploding
a mosaic of rust
I am infecting your glean

You won't wait with me
wind-warping the
skin we have left
You won't close your eyes
give in to the fall
letting loose skin take it on

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Ice-floe

Feeling you as an ice-floe
you began with a break
going on to continuously
tear at me not stopping
until I was red

I can't remember
my skin not aching
for validation
as though your frost
were the word

please touch me again
or else I am useless

There is some killing 
occurring a continuum
I've staked too much
in ice

I wanted to move you
to tears   my body
to break the flow
some divergence 
you'd need me

Why can't you ache
like I'm spanning
too long and too wide

You hold your ground and
simultaneously move me
to shreds

I don't want it
anymore 

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Sea-son

These aren't seasons
that pass my dear
I think that I'm
passing too slowly
undressing too quickly

I couldn't tell you
how heavy it is
to have limbs
they're aching 
they want to 
wind around
you softly

Like bandages
I'm bursting

I couldn't tell you
how healing I'd be

Less like summer
more like sinking

Monday, June 8, 2009

Tongues

Sitting for sounds
this city is spitting
like some falling
from mouths

I just want to hear 
the wet I can know
what I'll sound like
melting for you

Meet me in moisture
Slinking through sewers
meet in the gutter

Somewhere sitting
in soil sucked dry
by the sun I'll
send you the
quicksand and
we'll meet in 
the center

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

After the Birds

Making like pigeons
I am eating 
cigarette butts
bathing now in
public fountains

My feathers have
been ruffled
It's just enough 
to try and strut

I'm at the point
of attacking my 
reflection in
3rd floor windows
clutching the sills
hereafter slipping
to try and find
some elevation

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Kitchen Witch

Paralyzed I am dropping
ashes like set pieces
Nothing more 
than smoky skins
I've turned into the
thing under the counter

I'm infecting the pans
my feet in the fridge
the sink is my personal
saddle now I'll never
leave

such is my
performative immobility
I'll be swept under 
the rug though I'm 
afraid I can't
crumble like I 
could as children

Monday, June 1, 2009

Blindfold

In your temporary blindness
I lead you to some peak
an ecstasy we co-own
as I co-opt your senses

You can't understand my feel
until I've tied you
and kept you from seeing
me
binding you
I'm keeping you
your groping as some
painful, beautiful effort
my weight as your struggle
my struggle to break you
to own you

Stripping you to
fetishize my
effect on perception
to lead you deeper

You'll push your own way
even deeper

Victor

You know enough
to know when 
a poem is about you

Your name is signified
in each pen-stroke
I can muster
as much as it lives
in the skins I've shed
in the shower
the skins I keep

You are more present
in this city than I am
I find you in the most
surprising corners

I just found you
lingering above
some irrelevant
letterhead
the fruit I destroyed
with the ball of my foot
in the kitchen was me
and you were the floor

I am picturing you now
with your neck bent
you angles need to be spoken of

I can't stop your
manifestations
I would never

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Flustering

Something like remembering
some Autumn spent in bed
flustered from the trees

this is your skin
as an absence
your body as some reminder
of days of breath as fog

I can't touch anything
brushing the streetlamp
like your phantom shoulder

Please re-materialize
before me
before Autumn

That season as
a sickening
haunting event
where every sensation
of the body
(what I could say
of those shoulder blades)
of the ephemeral 
chill like a singular
skein swallowing me

I'll hope you're more
material than this

Friday, May 29, 2009

River Vs.

I am not in the river
I have become the river

Your country is dry
I've never known so many bones
your trees and your homes
too much skin
I am showing
I feel like breaking
a moment after cracking

My rivers
we flow in perpetual transience
and if we branch off in a
million directions to head
home to the ocean
the ocean, the origin
then we know we're alive, right?

I've never not known
the difference between
the living and the dead

Your days turn prematurely to ash
you're afraid of the fires
I've spent my whole life
building fires and breathing
in water
My whole life never considering
my days built on bone
my fluidity, temporary
my origin, illusory

In your arid expanse
in your heat
in your bones

I bring the rivers
I am surrounded by the 
waters of my birth

Water in which I 
cannot guarantee life
I've never felt it so dead

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Desperation

You are important
I wrote you the most
terrifying poem I could

Writing to you
attempting to break your skin
breaking my heart

It was the only thing I could do
foolishly hoping my texuality
could compensate for body

I'd have left you my ashes
if it would mean something

I can't even satisfy
my longing for you
through these multitudinous
attempts at imprisoning you
in poetry

There is nothing
that will do the trick

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

An Apology for the Mess



From 30,000 feet
the sight of some river
could only make me cry

In dirt and desert growth
the memory of the river
encased me in the persistence
of water fluidity as
some sacred measure
though all I care for
are your limbs painfully
absent at the sight of the
familiar landscape

You cherish some stability
I can't squeeze myself 
into your stoicism
as though the absence
of tears signifies 
a timidity of ache

I haven't hurt as much
looking down at the
gridwork of lights knowing
my body is hurdling 
thousands of miles away
from yours at a speed
that horrifies me

This fact makes me 
want to vomit

How can the Hudson hold me
like it once could when 
it is the desert that broke 
my body and is crying
out for my presence 
to continue with the breaking

The instability is the only part
that makes sense
in the wake of this
departure

To stand as some solid mass
interrupts my transience
my capacity to curl tighter
around your ghost

Please forgive me
I am a series of implosions
There is nothing as foul
as the gnawing
blistering ache
of the body propelling 
at top speed
from the only other body
it cares to acknowledge

you are the only 
other body

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Winnifred

To Winnifred
who fell from four stories

I have not yet ventured
to inquire about
the status of your uncertain death

You are sprawled on the ground
and I can only interpret
this mishap as an extension
of my own body
prone to leaning much too far
out the window addressing
the altitude of what sort
of injury I could inflict
upon my body

I'll let you lay there
a little longer to contemplate
your leap before I muster
up the courage to reclaim you
and reclaim my title 
as your owner and caregiver

Do you want to be 'found'?
Or would you prefer to 
return to earth and leave
my meddling human hand
out of your perfectly 
decorative existence?

I can only speculate
and read too much
into my poor
suicide plant

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Breakfasts


In the dark we
fried up the bacon
and discussed our egg
options like autopsy

boiled or scrambled or 
not at all I spill 
the juice
"Goddamn it all!"
You yell and I'm out
on the porch watching
the sun come up
waiting for the year
to end

Weather Bodied


You leave me dry
with a desert mind
with your desert body

I ought to embalm
(interpolate moisture)

You bring the dirt
I'll combat with the rain

Do we speak of our motives
as such opposing forces
inciting disaster?

I can flood your desert town
you'll dry the Hudson

We can't contain our
expression we touch
more than just the 
Two

This country won't be
the same after
we're done with each other

Though it can never be over
as I'll be planting cacti at
Coney Island for years to come
you'll expand the Kidney-shaped
pool for a new desert ocean

I covet the cracks
now burned in my skin
I support your ambition
your drowning