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