Element
sea-blew
what left, Miranda, the wind fortuning you
a Calibaning egg of Cali-bans
or Prosper’s abjuring empire of plans
some dummy’s wife who fell under his spell
the queen of Napoli; world’s best ice cream
the rook, the knight, carved pieces curious
with subtle knife she tries the bardic seam
a memory game or seashell serious
before, before, the backward-dark sings where
for worm your daddy needling mercy for
for forward way, the swallows only way
abysm storm and how came you no mother
you won’t know how to make a baby yet
when all you were is got and get without your will
or will withal begotten grow to fill out
full figure for your fateless face, blew-eyed
//
O
Socrates: by Hera, it is a beautiful resting place
this platanos tree is hugely wide-spreading (amphilaphes) and high (uphelos); and of the chaste tree, the height and the dense shade are entirely beautiful; and as she holds on (echein) to the cusp (akme) of her full bloom, she supplies such a sweet-smelling place; and also the graceful stream is flowing under the platanos tree with exceedingly cool water, by the witness (tekmairomai) of my foot
and by the girls and the statues it seems to be the temple (hieros/hieron) for some kind of Nymphs and of Achelous; and again, if you wish, the good breath (eupnous) of the place, how sufficient (agapeton) and violently pleasurable (sphodros hedu) it is; summery and clear, it responds to the chorus of cicadas; and most subtle (kompsos) of all is the grass, that it has grown (phuein) in gently to the steep slope, sufficient to hold, for one who has laid down their head, altogether beautifully
so it has been the best stranger guide for you, O beloved Phaedrus
black earth again
black earth again, dear polyvinyl ground
my sticky firm dense heavy cell; as i ally
orthogonally wooden floorboards by
corners, lines matching lines before i begin
one week today since my last vinyasa
marks doubt, unsteady shakes from atrophy
least progress lost, the war postponed, disowned
like how to trust what grows out from under me
sunlight lemon on the grass, and cedar trees
are spirits in the haze of muscles memory
the distant greys, the vagus nerve, drishti
oh cave of susceptivity; go eyes, under skin
at distance they behold a cunning henge
never a sur disdains from calling out to me
the greening herb grows vivid on the verge
the plantar fascia curl to meet some solid life
in place, half-driven, half-reined, half-spark and half-
holding, i part, expose the seam between
the licking flame and tucking in the hem
of wilderness accounted for, enfolding or
away; my mountains weight of carbon presses light
through floss; down wayfinding impression-meshed
sensation of the sedimentary stone
by layers etching bone, wind, ocean, fire
and fury, glass gash obsidian; if you forget
the trembling earth is always giving birth
at core, the organs fluctuating sphere
the planetary pliable and fevers warmer door
no body no container without change
resistance treasures injury, the palm-press grain
desires engined ecstasy, ankle
of metaphor into the metabolic storm
a molecule descends its tap root; bowl, pelvic
electrifies the spinal flange to polarize
and draw the reins until weather turns self-strange
and tether twists, deranged; the synapse snaps
the white orbs of a nightmares rolling eyes
charred thunder muscled under the stringent seat
and faith is endless as pure body knows
who bites and remakes wretch into the mouthful
full dark full rain full speed full poetry
eleven if, and, in charges difference of the same
an arrow born mid-air is garden, regained
the static swallowed appetite of living hell
the globe interns red-ratioed rectangle
by burning every name is regrown mane
true mother, riding form as i hair-string the bow
whose shrieking womb my practice bends to tame
to time; the shadow letting tide, what, die-cut
by horizontal held; my cradle hard
harped infant of vacationing; and tempest swept
as sea refills the valley with somnambulent sanity
//
cramp
again the girl, again her edge of pain
holy immovable inside the nervous frame
and offering that traces her own name
the hieroglyphic river catching flame
//
Socrates: (cont.) and by the girls and the statues it seems to be the temple (hieron) for some kind of Nymphs and of Achelous
// 230β
Νυμφῶν τέ τινων καὶ Ἀχελῴου ἱερὸν ἀπὸ τῶν κορῶν τε καὶ ἀγαλμάτων ἔοικεν εἶναι
//
Hieron can be read as temple/holy place and as victim/sacrifical offering. Achelous was a shape-shifting river god.
//
cool
the river touching one is touching two
as ribbons come undone, the red, the blood
we didn’t need a priest to make it true
the cool is spilling multitudes of blue
//
the mallow sea
sleeping moons in a plastic spoon
slip them into the watcher’s tea
undertow and the lunar noon
float away on a mallow sea
loo, loo-loo, the empty sea
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
a fooly tumbles on her head
a froggy for the willow tree
fall down into the green grass bed
sail away on a bumble bee
loo, loo-loo, the bumble bee
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
a fairy’s wing in every room
a pocket for the marble sky
fluff the pillow and sweet the broom
softer than a glow worm
loo, loo-loo, the marble sky
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
sleeping moons in a plastic spoon
slip them into the watcher’s tea
undertow and the lunar noon
float away on a mallow sea
loo, loo-loo, the empty sea
loo, loo-loo, the mallow
//
🌕
//
mallowtonin
&
pour notre
voyeur
//
hag-seed
4 all
//
the goodliest
all unrestraint, all treats this island takes
by forest, mountain, mangrove or the beach
an altar lit with incense, sticky cakes
and coins, by slobbery foam, licks of brimstones
and muddy sticks and well-chewed-over bones
what rainbows churning in her tempest heart
what spilling cordials, bloody clots of earth, and all
may find rest in her furry green account
at restless earth-born sings a twilit face—
my valley for a storms! all to the tree!
and all to thee, the goodliest pan, O Pan—
of setting rings, pure nuncial—of place!
//
genius loci
ribbitere
//
🌓
the seams of Saint Veronica
i was digging in the garden
i was rooting up a rose
dreaming of a buried bone
listening to my nose
i sewed your face into it
and you told me no
my unclean mystery
i’m tearing up tatami
do you need the dog in me
should i paw at your door
i was sniffing in a corner
now i’m passed out on the floor
i smell like cat piss
i’ve been running in the rain
what is your mercy for
a reckoning of typhons
i’m in a foreign country
and i never knew a law
i weep at every stranger
my long tongue and stupid jaw
you don’t even want it
until you’re dying
and you don’t look at me
i miss you only
wandering the streets at night
‘cause good girls love to roam
and if i lost my reason
would i find you at home
all your mixed signals
i chew them into air
your body is so visible
bones buried everywhere
the wooden cross you carry
the weight on trembling knees
how do you carry crosses
if you don’t believe in trees
why do i bury them
why am i depressed
why am i in your garden
my garden is a mess
six angry shades of rosary
and every count has thorns
and if i turn the light on
what takes a shadow’s form
and could i fight it
or am i just a bluff
my smoke at midnight
my nothing is enough
three verticals upon the hill
at dawn there’s five or more
their arms the work of windmills
guardians of metaphor
vermilion edges
my painterly lines
flashing iridescence
my greener stigmata
the seams of Saint Veronica
the tilt of her golden leaf
and if the suffering savior
had denied her that relief
beloved breaking
my faltered knowledge
she’s in the dirty street
the hounds of resurrection
//
(a song /
a howls)
//
my dog sings
and my gremlin
speaks in iambs
or
currently reading:
The Tempest
//
leaves like stars
leaves like stars
for wonder gazers
scrappy chasers
a hot day, here
the emerald belt
for kept begonias
weathering arms
of atmosphere
heart of Antarctica
across the room
blurry
melting
pinkish
patient
//
selamat Natal 🌟
//
corvid solstish
i saw a crow, but not a city crow
a forest crow, gagak hutan, Corvus enca
her smooth and perceptive, violet-black
matte iridescence, flew over me, up to the green
ravine; from there she turned her black eyes on me
barely here, it was the longest day of the year
a rain-soaked day; but the sun came out that morning
to show her shadowing rainbow and the waterfall
later, some kind of animal, taking a hot shower
stars thread the clouds like icy pinpricks of rain
legs still sore, reflection cooling skopein
ornithologoi, a poet’s favorite color; yes, tilting
//
here //
the white rose
i. lazy lying
O love, and your elliptical necessity
O body, where my hand should or shouldn’t be
O pain, incongruous with poetry
O tease, who didn’t even taste her vegan sushi
and can’t you read your working girl is wired
how thick her lines, how dense the verbal flex
through tissue skin she moves for you like fire
if beggars reach beyond the solar plex
or if you crowny thorn her goldylocks
then she could drag your cross by silken hem
mantic romantic how you palmed her wrist
and when you nearly slid it in, sweet bitter
O yes, no, neither, both, if irony
is logic how she leaves the dead country
she only wants to be with you, for you, baby
and how you need it, and how your penstrokes ask for it
darling prevarication; but your him-hands
give quaking earth, they land so serious
and lazy lying on your big brass bed, and curious
you have her on her back, hand where you said
her wears a ring to be transcendent lay
for texture fascinates her fingertips
down to the valley, where she gives it all away
hits harder when the moon falls on a Saturday
//
ii. the corsage
my pulse is narrowing and turns the sky
around this death, heart over air, to fly
so cradled night, my infant, catching, fell
for contact, striking, stroke indelible
a wrist, a pin, the pale stem of a rose
her point, round by my red hand and my right
her subtle bite of blood at ivory jaw
our trinity of sunbeam into sleep
but here, i kiss the center, mouth for eye
i taste it, as i take contested breath
i turn it, making weighted what was white
i let it fly, and earth will finish the matter
//
iii. air terjun
on this island, there are many waterfalls
come visit; then your tree trunk thighs will tremble
and collapse from the steep trail of descent
we seek her from the bottom, not the top
don’t think about the arduous way back up
the rising hell, and you will ache tomorrow
but the future needs to take care of itself
not like some infernal baby, wailing
our path is not yet ruined by the trash
yet discarded plastic has determined us
our dirty fingernails pry it out and carry
made little masters of unending refuse
shaded by foliage as we approach
the whiteout sound echoes off slippery slopes
of mud-washed stone, grip held by cliffside roots
and every footstep is precarious
place focus, eyes on feet and hands on limb
the green ravine her delving argument
into this living hollow of the land
the cave erasing history of water
to where her falling flight consumes the air
by roiling pool, our temporary here
our momentary test, like ice for legs
the same knees wobble forth to undergo her
into the storm, the fight white vertical
her standing soaking mountain-height of light
defeats the gaze, sheer upright counter-thirst
and roaring riddle; if you reach your arms to touch her
her closer is the punishment of rain
she smacks your skull and plasters down your hair
her current pummeling your blinded form
her action belongs to nobody
but how she caught my breath and draws me near
and how much love precipitous you take
and how her emptying invokes my ghost interior
and how i fail again, her force compelling my return
//
for Faded Love
pinkish //
in memory of Oreithyia
a pearl exposed
on the one-way road
demands a rocky throne
her tritone howling
unhinging the jewelry jaw
its hunger pretending
its hook line preclaiming
lip angled by whether
lost inseam unseemly loss
the weightlessness of stone
//
diptych oceanic amechanica
hysteriac at home
woe! i am a not altogether fortunate woman
my pocket seams with potsherds polishing
a bag of skin trailing portentous signs
and i am broken news, my sand is yellow
to find my edge, i walk into the sea
her seaweed briarpatch of gorgons birth
surrendered sky by pegasi recovery
as mermaids sing flat edges for my shanty
woe! her thanatos uncanny, even for me
the horizon roars for blessing every line
shore smashing every bauble blending shades
soft seashells made tangible the breast of ocean
and time is a tangent tracing its beloved snail
and the cradle failing of her continental tail
and she is drawing, drawing, under seasons wax
pink salty glowing in her seamless milk cocoon
woe, woe! my every mask a bending earth
reflowing throng of placeless impossibility
and desires every glance she didn’t chase yet
my marbles rolling in her depthless pocket
//
uteri
get em hot
skim cooling
like sumber bor
in 12 hrs or more
chocolate lava cake
stone melting
tropic shiver
truly your
earth dwelling
tacky decor
tasteless tasty
ova in—
ice tailor—
screaming
wicked
//
. . .
oh no!
dessert
amazing
1, 2, 3, ho!
smashing
to order
. . .
//
coverage //
winter under wax & wick bottled
winter under wax
on church circle, dark december in the upstairs bar
a brass banister slides under my pink merino glove
words quiet, two or four of us at a mahogany table, hunter
green and a glass globe of spiced amber medicinal
or new years post-midnight, lit sobranie at the window
my flat over the cobalt classy resto where i worked
high-waisted and fetching wine for devil’s cash from tourists
my slanted bedroom walls still blue for my boss’s baby
alone finishing a bottle of champagne with poetry
down gazing over main street empty, marketed, icy
and lantern halo; uphill from the glossy wavering city dock
of Annapolis sleeping under the falling snow
in great hall, a baby grand conceived her toasty fingerprints
you found me there, immersive conjecture duo lingual
brought me back to your apartment, requested we tango
through leggy glasses of burgundy whether i broke a heart
doorways into sympathy revolving thresholds of regret
fellowships unbraided by such shallow recklessness
the turning years a blur between slow burns of clarity
or tether to a substance so precious it couldn’t endure
and was sanctuary sweet, i ask at the temple of winter
retasting an icicle of rarity until it self-sealed under wax
and aged like honey; when all around it had decayed
knotwork to dust, the bitterness of ashes and Egyptian sun
//
wick bottled
wax profane
waning lunar
wick bottled
yes
and i, old lady, lug down
but 61 ivories from the loteng
dear i’m sorry for these years
pyramidical procrastination
now
are they enough
for journey to Jeddah
//
Pharmakeia’s triptych
trippy destiny
true story: in her salad bruising days
her myspace name was like a prayer, Pharmakeia
the profiled face was drawing of a death
cap mushroom; well, consistency
and every day a salad day
and every day un po’ di morte
today, when sniper scopes an urban label
the same shaded and subtle botanical
renderings pop up from top of neon heap
left truffles for her canny little pig
for snorts and tickles, yet
a fact; and do you trust it
//
what marriage
the maskmaker who daily carries her
drew sigil gold and black on brown bag paper
Al-Lateef—his soft likeness sleeping by her pillow
beloved names for her beloved way
what reck does come to find
what wreck that came to ground
as travelers witness landslides and inundations
upheavals that by eagle’s eye the aftermath
counts losses, failure, countlessness; what hand
to brush a tawny cow, her long-lashed eyes
what blinded word to see
what marriage of then and now
//
big girl
she sees, by name, the blue of heaven’s white
behind how obvious a giantess
the light, the light, it hurts to look at it
so brightly shines a lofty signature
built body born from Isis warm
and catching form her dulcet veil
some Aphrodites are, it’s said, too tall
to be from brick wall read, too high to see
by tools of masonry; how broad her arms
great fools embracing sky of marbled earth
her reckoning like reckless love
big girl logician
//
🍄