You who picks at pieces of animal flesh, of vegetable fiber, of grape skin from the calcified tissue set like so many rounded stalagmites and stalactites within your mouth.
You who bites, masticates.
You with your kisses to give. The kisses you need.
Words tumble out, and a mind watches the water going o’er the edge… and somehow so much is conveyed.
Where from do you come?
Has God put you here?
Have great and powerful gods planned this just for you?
And me. Add me.
For, I believe in your self. This will – hesitation – to power.
That thought of contrivance… of origins in this final hour.
Do we play along?
I do not know.
The truth. The highest? Lies!
Whose? Closest to what?
This fistful of dirt, wet in my hand. Is this from where the soul gets its land?
We take our stand, and oh what beauty.
A streak of dirt down my shirt. My hand still wet. It’s beautiful.
It frightens me.
The fire, it seals me. The glue hardens. The youth fades. The body sighs, and the tree heaves in the wind.
Leaves of a tree.
I smell a burning bush, a dirty rat, and a door to a room opened just enough to see a figure sitting at the window.
A widow of infinite regret and hope.
The Earth is shining.
Where is your home, you lonely soul? Is it here in Eden, or is it beyond and before?
Forgive my questions weary stranger, brother, sister, lover, shadow so following, leading, pleasing, teasing out our relation.
Addition, subtraction, division… of one to many, and more, not them, or them, but I alone it seems.
The only one please.
Please. (I love you)
Pick at your teeth, for you have a music sheet before you. It is printed in flesh, and the music is playing, and it only
rains reigns for so long.
Though you’ve been gone, you see me now. I see you too.
The atom is splitting. Change on the table. Last call, a coffee.
So sit, sit. Touch the tusks with your fingers and thumbs, squeeze the fucking bones, feel the thunderous beat of the millions of feet, trillions of toes, for how long, odd only knows.
The jazz is giving me a headache. I can’t hear it through my flesh that plucks the string theory. Why not lay in the middle of the law, down for a lion to feast upon your coloured eyes… bleed your loins — in lines, snorted up the biggest nose.
We’re bombing Dresden, you hear me say.
It’s the only way to stay.
Bless you, bless you.
Forgive me, I’m bleeding. Leading the witness, blood in our mouths, and eyes, and brains: we live!
We leave this tangential terrorism, filling up our days with dreams of adventure, mountains in lipstick, knee high socks, dicks and sex: selfie-destruction. Manly men and gays; cats chasing strays. Pussy for days.
Children shaping old worlds, scratching when they ought to be listening. Swastikas in tennis shoes, and laces in hidden spaces.
So many disgraces, peeling like a sunburn; a family sleeping in an urn.
Business ties and borrowed time.
Lower me down, deep through the sky, in the night wide awake.
Wake me in the flight — with a kiss.
No survivors, death doesn’t miss this petty bliss.
We sea only lives lived long into the old Aegean. See, where fat men float on their backs, bloated with salt, where tissues inflame, and it slows.
Where nature lays her blows, where the water boils — dry. That too shows.
I’m crying. We never stopped.
We’re drowning in our dust and DNA; make a wish (wish for everything).
I see the sun is out.
I see the son is up.
You smile politely.
I like your sonnet.
You climb into your box, close the lid.
Once again, for the first time, this time.
I smile, every time I see you.
The God of death is at the birth of breath, and He waits for you, and in you he knows himself alone.
You are like so many pieces, belonging to Him, in such a configuration that even he would cry if he knew the connections, the collections, the meetings late at night where fingers touch cheeks and tongues bump teeth. Eyes closed.
He cannot blow your kisses, feel your hugs. That you miss the shrugs, the drugs and books… sliding into the ocean of time, this time, he hasn’t the slightest clue.
His time. His pieces.
Every time I see you, I smile.
I really do.
I see you’re bleeding. We’re feeding on one another.
Play nice, and later we’ll clean all this up.
Him and I, we’ll talk, to myself, you and I. And him in the tall grass, licking his yellow teeth.
Not a thought behind his eyes but leap.
When you’re tired, I will wipe your face with water. I will rub your feet and wipe from the Earth your laughter.
Your memories will be pulled to threads, and others will weave what they leave, that too I will destroy. We’ll reuse it, for some others joy.
It’s yours, it was always yours.
Oh how I love that smile.