Behind violence,
Beyond liquidity,
Is my red faced Iniquity
Doing the tango with Shame.
The music is devilish,
And I fear for my feelings.
I owe fealty to my Father in Heaven
(Hallowed be thy name)
But my feet are wicked,
My soul slack.
Strung through the notes,
A bloodstone pin.
Under a stitched sun
And a macrome moon,
I hunt words,
Trapping them in my bell jar.
See how the little monsters run!
Peckish, I must track them.
My teeth are faint with hunger.
Oh Candelabra! Do come back!
It will be painless, I promise.
Quintessential, I have you cornered.
The heavens shudder at my
Vicious verbosity.
Through a slit in the magenta,
I see a carnality
Fanged,
Indefatigable,
Fiery.
Why is devour so female,
And pink so aggressive?
The ecstatic victim offers bouquets
Of breath,
Paralyzed.
Summer sylphs repel me,
Slip away as though they were never a certainty.
I prefer winter women,
Fat with autumn and
Soft as snowfall
Their bodies as deliberate as shadow,
As lovable and mysterious as cloud.
Her legs are incendiary.
Though I travel 100 miles,
Dragging the point of myself
Through broken glass,
She watches my natural fullness like
A leopard a pattern in the grass.
Hunt my beastful blush,
Lick the harmony of my breasts.
What can she sing with her lips
Pursed in kiss?
Her waist the willfulness of tornadoes,
Her soft belly bread
Baked in the Parisian dawn.
It is the ritual of her hands hunting me,
The reminds me that pleasure rhymes
With guilt.
Her hair is so cool.
The bridge of her lips I consider straddling.
In the sweet musk of human frailty,
I rollick like a ship to sea
When she gazes at me,
Knife to meat,
Erosion to beach,
Destruction was never so complete.
Spread open like an unread book,
I am searched –
My ecstasy excavated,
Preserved in her skin,
Dissolving on her tongue.
A careful umbrella
channels the rain
like tv reception.
I am a receptionist in an office of glass.
See this phone?
This is my phone.
There are many like it,
but this one is mine.
Operator,
transfer me to God please.
I field grape juice flavored calls
From cathedrals.
Wine about everything.
SPLASH!
Beneath the crystalline floor,
an alien jumps into the pool.
Foreign spirits gather in the lobby.
Operator,
Take me home.
Festive and feral,
I nuzzle a daisy.
The sun is dizzy in the revolving door.
The penguin in the lobby
points at me petulantly,
but I am not accepting discipline today.
In this gun scented,
Wednesday wearing
terrarium,
stones lurch,
lungs pulsate,
lizards lounge on the verdant moss.
What am I waiting for?
What I have always longed for –
a viewer.
The spirits wash
their aeon voices in my sink.
Dizzy neon fish wiggle
through the water.
I am naked.
This is not a good thing.
My clothes are floating in the
vast oxygen above me.
I’ve been breathing bare black
for so long that my blood
is burning obsidian.
Desire –
air,
aria,
atlas,
able.
My spirit waiting impatiently
to birth through my stormy eyes
and gain a voice.
I am tunneling,
hands spastic,
mouth squirting saliva,
making my way through
to the other side of the sun.
Even in the corona,
I feel cool.
Miniature Moon 