Posts Tagged ‘lion’

Of Kings And Plural Pronouns


23 Feb

To write the epic of the world
in a few words or less
(in one word or less)
is the method
of Cameo Kidney,
an unfanned philosopher,
a basic star streaker,
a stunning safety soldier,
hiding in the cloak closet,
chaffed but unashamed
that English is the only
language which capitalizes
I while several prize
the pronoun—you.

To be born in my manger,
made affluent in three gifts
by strangers harried from afar,
is the feeling faked everywhere
in the shadow of my birthdate—
and you break out the best dishes
saying, "Your book, if as a canvas
is an ugly painting hanging in all
the wrong places."

Generations of chalk
revile the science of gestures
nicknamed virgins coax to their brow,
laughing and lampooning
Einstein's stepchildren
God was forced to allow.

To kiss them where muses lick,
begetting secrets we shower in song
(Tormenting earth for five months—
eagerly selling dark matter to the sun,
dead idol Beelzebub's a cracking
jokes at the keeper of the knots
"home of the label"
spinning report card eyes
to recall laughter understood
in the vernacular to be fatal.

To accept each hand in marriage
as a lion among the woodpiles
lost on timeshared tee-shirts
admiring the sundown of business
& extreme video conjugations
counting numbers without commas
calling names without numbers
dealing cards without names
shaving beards without cards
booking definitions

Fermi solutions with redlights
poke through.

[1983, Atlanta, GA ]

Only If You Wash Me


08 Sep

Ageless quarrel made of universal matter,
I introduce us as the welcomed one
Grooming the gods and blaming no one
Except those who believe it doesn't matter.

The Silent Connie from Corpus Christi
Who knew the night to take her breath away,
Gave it freely to kiss holy
The frail man of ancient money.
Into his breasts were blown blankettes for her stay,
Milk and honey words placed before them.
(Is this a picnic arrangement or something
Honoring nude dancer worship between them?)
And when the left-handed artist put them in a painting,
Into his bleeding eyes
She poured her healing rush.

Go about your business,
Do what you will,
Dead honesty provides for you,
He whispered so that all could hear.
(The guildrunners smiled at these winning words,
as Lucifer's breath scattered those ready to sneer.)
Any of your wetnesses,
You must witness them here.
Gone about sheer destiny stripping
Clean of every wordless fear,
Describe the city juggernaut
To the race often come near.

A lion walks the progress line alone
Lately behind dark places unknown
To the readers of bookless questions shown
Likely to rub raw jaw bone to jaw bone
Yet willing to speak in decision
To drink a beer
With her talking of loving

To learn the tongue of yet her mouth
And praise the unwilted way
Along the solemn fast parade
Of bodies novel parting quick mouth.

Very good they are together she thinks.

Naked telephone,
Why have you voiced frank silences
Deported in ritual to the border of grievances
We suspect we own?
The rise and fall of something earlier,
Instructs another silence pause inspirational, breeding
Merciful noises as each willing cause shifts
Its shape upon her face freely.

Oh wake up bitch and smell the azaleas!
The dam is burst! Ocean Silent Consuela!
Consult with him now because I know
We aren't fit to be labeled strangers,
Just old friends
Hearing the hurrying children grow.
Take your eyes and plant them
Among the Nuclear Islands, where
There swims something someone
Left you in his will be done
Across dry beds of summer freely.

You have known the September Monk.

Yet in achievement of absolute goodness,
Sometimes the sentences jam
Themselves in traffic protecting the evening lamb
From the flood of lying freely.

When he nuzzles her and listens to secular eternity,
Inalienable illusions poison unfading reality,
Pouring liquid role into dreamy feats freely
Past frenzy into grace in a twinkling.
Women of inertia,
You changed into an unwed girl
Not silly but measured like an ageless pearl
Becomes when joy smiles freely, governing
The aisle of annoyance's exact look.
Proceed sounding your road,
Knowing I stroll unrobbed of innocense by plot,
Disrobing the figures dawning unprepared
To cash in utter allowance
This cutters' brand of passion,
Circulating among my members freely.

Scandal and omniscience were lamenting our pose,
And I don't remember
Were they wearing propaganda clothes,
Praising poor artists with nostrils still wet,
Wanted for performance and a message that grows,
Freely.

Across the belly of a forgotten poll
We fly from role to role
Wading through weeds of validity.

(The symptoms stole the attempt.)

[ 1981, Corpus Christi, TX ]

S A M P L E X

"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""


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