Fish
anima lover
be
be still
if still to me
still to my body
one (releasing and binding
and needful and releasing) alone
(you) happen(s) to be drawing near
you feel my heart(beat)
its some small tempest
our little sea in a bigger sea
where there is no shallow
the light never goes out
only my color changes
you make it easy
when you open me
your iamb oyster
the sky is full of pearls
and one small cry to let
you know youre really in
if (she)(they were)(it was)i
was(saying) (you)happen(s)
well (having)brought forth
life-breath
//
if still to him(self)
one
releasing and binding
needful and releasing
alone
happens (to be) drawing near
some small (what)
what said (he) Critias
if (she)
(they were)(it was)i was(saying)
(you)happen(s) well (having)brought forth
life-breath
εἰ ἔτι αὐτῷ
ἓν δὴ μόνον
τυγχάνει προσὸν
σμικρόν τι
τί; ἔφη ὁ Κριτίας
εἰ τὴν ψυχήν
ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ
τυγχάνει εὖ πεφυκώς
154δ
//
psuche
american shade
well that was a beautiful city
i think he had a beautiful tan
i heard he tried to make peace
in the tropical asian southeast
left footprints on bigfoot and a beach
made marilyn milkmaid the moon
runaway chevy fifty-seven bridegroom
the flag that got left on her face
and then he lost interest
when he lost faith in my body
i assumed it was me, in washington d.c.
my mother my father implicitly
somersaulting the scene
there were sprinklers and sparklers
and lipgloss from a rich invitee
at my eleventh birthday party
so it must have been me
was i jackie or sara
should i have offered my face
like courtney then lana and everyone else
become a magazine fiction
lolita fillers, no filters, no friction
trade a dick in for my diction
go down for an icy-hot la embrace
but i assumed it was me
i bought in, i got out, i was clean
now im your summer ambition
if you cut me down to your size
you can grab me by the waist
be the one to take me back
if you put me in my place
will you teach me willing words
will you rearrange my face
i strip naked for a tune
if you touch me like i touch me
reach for my dangerously thin body
when i put makeup on my eyes
i can still look twenty-one
its when i start to cry for him
its clear im done and dying again
but now that ai fills the sky
we could really write a hit
throw pinecones from behind a tree
and when you dont show up for it
ill cry for a squirrel
he got famous with a book
from a girl it took the look
but it will never be okay
for me to hook an iamb
i tried to be a flesh machine
i fucked the literary scene
all the women there were mean
and the fathers gave me hpv
i thought it was a dog disease
that was the shape of me then
when he lost faith in my body
and i assumed it was my face
i took ballet classes in houston
practiced lightning earns his grace
i was too stubborn, it was me
everyday a tempest fought a system
i parted so many ways i parted
the ocean
even so, most days i dont know
if i can make promises again
even for roses, violets for you
eve or the planet or my ghost best friend
for who made me, who left me, i left him
cherry-black abortion vasectomy
and he was a baby then too
and i know what it looks like now
babies having babies
he was the last american man
it was a dream and he was dead
before my life even began
face of an unsolved mystery
slid right through when previously
sleeping through history
i assumed that bob did it
but it was just he, most easily
who delivered the unfortunate news
//
nevertheless, this
he was saying
if he would be willing to strip
he would seem to you to be faceless
so all-beautiful is the form
οὗτος μέντοι
ἔφη
εἰ ἐθέλοι ἀποδῦναι
δόξει σοι ἀπρόσωπος εἶναι
οὕτως τὸ εἶδος πάγκαλός ἐστιν
154δ
my beauty and her body (nightdiving)
i.
my beauty, a green-haired, green-
breasted mermaid, goes diving
at night, for him
the younger i become
the more my body needs him
the more of me belongs to him
as a girl, i carried a memory
of breathing (in
and out
and dying, for him
and out
and down) into the fear, i carry
my memory of you
cool cells makeout warm blackness
your fish glistens for the light
my listeners listen for
i float around your parts, so delicate
my cinammon-green lips
dont trust the stars
ii.
my beauty is a woman of middle-age
her body is a school of fish
and the (part), our (part)
the (part) yielding to (his) man
(was yielding to) the wondrous
(they were)(i was saying)
but i also for (all) the children
i(they) offer mind(fulness)
how not one at another of them
(selves)(it) is looking
nor even whoever is the smallest
(they were)(i was saying)
but all as at an idol (our parts)
are gazing at (him)self
//
καὶ τὸ μὲν ἡμέτερον
τὸ τῶν ἀνδρῶν ἧττον
θαυμαστὸν
ἦν
ἀλλ᾽ ἐγὼ καὶ τοῖς παισὶ
προσέσχον τὸν νοῦν
ὡς οὐδεὶς ἄλλοσ᾽
ἔβλεπεν αὐτῶν
οὐδ᾽ ὅστις σμικρότατος
ἦν
ἀλλὰ πάντες ὥσπερ ἄγαλμα
ἐθεῶντο αὐτόν
🌒
the daddys issue
some days like i become your magazine
some days like i become your loaded gun
these days it makes no difference which (oil spill)
yes i read your letter yesterday and all
the days before, your hollow men, your dump
truck spat into my bed, and im not sure
it got there but i wrote you on the third
to say, how dare you write me when you never
learn to read a single fucking word
//
Phaedrus: (as Lysias, cont.)
whether id recommend (para-aineein
for you
to gratify
all
the not-loving (ones) (me erosi)
// 234β
εἰ ἅπασίν σοι παραινῶ τοῖς μὴ ἐρῶσι χαρίζεσθαι
//
oil spill
lipsblum and parfum ooze
the cherries fell and placed their fingerprints
between my feet like small mouths of a month
of its here its a bloody wee well of a red whale
her fluke-petals strewn long the grey and white tile
and smudge of a moth in the blossoms to clear
but im always her hem and im on the sore brink
of love with the let-jet and inky-bruise style of it
like my pussy would write her own un-willing book
would underwear-stain me an avant-garde blotch
of enfant terrible for primordial brood
elsewhere wind-egg dramatic and lithe acrobatic
some brown-wise residuum to raging en rouge
sex-flowing battle and kiss-knowing cramp
my blew-brewing worm of verbage vole-damp
a crescendo howled in my bowling-ball clamp
and how you offered to switch off the lamp
so i wouldnt need to move at all
so i lie lust-fallow-unfastened at last for now
and i shower near the violet melati that you grow
with slugs softly tucked in a wet toilet paper roll
//
🌖
//
after
the easy way out
saucy
like a bruise
cherry
&c
& the maskmaker
who called lip balm that
mere eidolon
at sundown when you disappear
like death is an unbroken sound
my dark thought into your empty pockets
an oyster swallowed
//
ahistorical fast
you come to me with your fishing game
your hunger for hunger
i might bite
to stir the turmoil of that famous ocean
the subtle friction between his loves
our pretty little law
your holding vibrates like a plucked string
all beauties of the past
swallowed
//
whos a good
i heard a rumor about myself
from you or my long-lost
referential tendency
the scent just strange
like a far-flung purpose
with charred edges
remarkable love
mighty hobbler
good nature
//
ache
daikon & rice vinegar
& kopi & key lime pie
& something i don’t recognize
and everything else
ive eaten at iftar
and everybody laughing
at my stomach-ache
because they know
//
Indras net (what belongs to the familiar)
around her head a sardine circlet
around her foot mortality
around her voice a glittering corset
around her heart a memory
she reflected on the dawnlight
she was setting in her place
she looked sober in the photo
but you couldn’t see her face
eye for eye and cell to cell
did you knot me to be brave
did you tie me from a shoestring
toss my frame across the wave
name the garnet in my cherry
your horizon on the deep deep wine
as i lost count of drowning
for the promise of a rhyme
for your blessed rage to swallow
i was waiting at the altar
and a pearl was burning bitter-sweet
when i tasted your salt water
when i saw you in the restaurant yesterday
and you finally appeared
Indras net was drawing closer
Indras net was catching tears
when you saw that i was deadly
when you wrote my rib in two
i was made and i was unmade
to make better love to you
and every lace undoing
to find the heart of sand
and every mark to fill the worth of a blade
with the imprint of her hand
and every glass was melting thunder
to the predatory corner
and a little death for the purities of power
to the mountain out her window
to the wildflowers evening color
to the sky and sea and weather
to the darker voice that rose
to the horses all untethered
she heard it was one million
she heard one million seven
the circle dreamed it would be easy
the fishes knew it would be heaven
you know my situation
you know what keeps me here
you know ocean is an islands final word
and what belongs to the familiar
//
lyrics for conscience round
music and idea from angles morts
adaddy (of lies)
she sings full coverage seashells for sirens
on oceans stews of roiling fatted wine
she forks her sunset locks for nobody
her cockled chains abreast the silvered brine
she quacks and its a salty bouillabaisse
a diddys rouille on croutons midnight crime
she lays to bed adaddy of earthquakes
her morning simmering the sky star-peppered
//
lemon & roses
//
🌘
wavery
as veils in stages of a jellyfish
under glassy bladder of saran-wrapped water
albumen tissue met me in a wavery voice
a bloated organ tuning waterlight
her kind of swollen onion brining into pores
pale polyps in sea-shade for layers of depth
interior velarium of blue-open cells
just cusp enough for what medusas left
ancient ephemeral bauble belle and shallow
until some lashes numbs or swells or swallows
some silken parachute wrinkles or ruffles
for letting in salinity tasting a pulse
the adolescent suffering of swollen lips
the stung puppet who pouted on that fishy face
the unrequited sag of kissing puffy pain
the burn of cross-dressing as crosses again
the magdalening of a metaphor
her sticky hooks for whatever pickled
potato fish was named the future we cradled
by our other cells like infant dates for takjil
these oral arms reach down and up into the translucent sac
a nexus of neon veins of pink drinking violet
blown iris lightning guts vermillion seams aflame
like sex or ancient theater or a peachy disco dream
one common mouth for going out and in
one ladder up and down the bodys bluing appetite
one hunger never to escape itself
one conduit of oceans endless iteration
to wake up tangled tentacles around an island
where coffee was shade-grown and golden-drifted we
ink-bled as cursive in a convoluted colony
of silvery crescents hunting on the current
where half the word was raging against chains
if we weren’t as transparent as we seemed
the rest would eat a cliché well to sing
who stings to life and floats by sea-found undulations
//
special delivery
smooth now, that rough magic
periscopic tragic midnight lookout
pale arms out arctic like an exiled
penguin into the nameless city
coping, cold, gauze in a sand storm
laron flicker in the mighty dust
a turning ember, hot
spark-caught, gold-litter
in the spider web
spanning a rattan lamp shade
my one fish, two fish
her peacock greenish-black or blue
the switch, dangling
sarcophagus
so dead; quothe the neon miracle
off-gassing meatlight; or Lalah
pink, with only enough instinct
to kill and never eat, my baby, yes;
deveining ribbons in the snow, scrubbed
scrubbing, awash in the darkroom; or
backstage, up rusty rungs, like icicles; blanket
of rags, pocket of candy-wrapped pills; she goes
like gamelan trancing crickets at the cross
by tilem, smoke of incense over the sawah
//
on pleasure: infrastructure & invective
by pan, by puck or by Tokyo toilet, by Pan’s
eye polyamorous, polyvoracious maw
what briarpatch you calliper, sister sufficiency
or savage desire, oh my, this bidet enak
//
but i say more, if words be granted girls
or fish freeze-dried and rendered fatty string
O let me be your hollow chocolate, gold tinfoil
your lie swum-in for truth, your magic trick
O let me be soggy sashimi, porn under plastic
and when did pleasure stop witnessing the true
when angled by the tower’s unfunny retinue
ripe plums made massacre, her metaphor for you
and what does every girl hold in her heart
or breathing torn from her before she’s two
her body, pleasure, joy — inalienable
if pearl, self-mediation from the start
since when is iron more your shape than living flesh
and how long since eternal became momentary, dense
in you, who shimmers through your translucent skin
and whose name do you call when taken by the wind
and does your lover slice and plate your fruit
as offering, for light, cat, goddess spread out in bed
the ocean take what verb you use, cliché or clamshell hid
but give Aphrodite her fucking due
//
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
. . .
//
the lost marble & spice trade
the lost marble
news is, bad flooding in Sumatra; so i
put down my pen, examine my hands
and feel myself a chimpanzee that lost
its marble by these ten irresoluble things
compulsion as a typhoon turns its form
an eye that cannot hear; in filthy flux
a child clings to the minaret of a mosque
i have no word to turn it from its path
is every child the same across the globe
a digit hugging-to against the storm
inherent heart against the deafening blow
an act of curling tight to one held poem
so poet-magus turns her glass from one
true child to ten imaginary orphans just—
as here, as typhoon where, and whether i
was drowning in the sum of what they did
there was a marble somewhere in the mud
ten fingers prying ceaselessly for air
don’t let me be the word to cause a flood
don’t turn me like an eye without an ear
//
diptych
of survival
InsyaAllah
//
spice trade
you know we taste the weather of a word
or housewife by her sambal, like bitter salt
this kitchen hell and getting warmer, mad
desires to let out; adventuring to eat
a journey to her inward, fine-tuning cook
is converse travel whereby stirring builds
a tragic tongue to name her worldly khas
enchanting handfuls for like memory cast
seduction; spice trade, her nightly shedding veil
far-fishing season monger Sheherazade
queen turning by tantalized infinities
survivor storming mercy from the heat
//
Helena at the mirror
i want 2 read Aristotle
with u
in private
in Greek
i want 2 show u every word
i want us 2 go slow and thorough
i want 2 find the perfect way
words right thru until tomorrow
first the physics, then the ones
that come after the ones on physics
parts of animals before poetics
the lost books of poetics, too
O beloved flood of words
can we read clock-
wise and counter-
at once?
πολλαχῶς λέγεται τὸ ὄν
and don’t f—k it up
//
back in her bones, an animal holds
or is held by or stretched by
or broken or taken or raped by
or mended by the word
dismembering that ended carcass
and read like knives the one-way road
apart, a mince of sentences
by university of butchers
by that unkind yet counting world
where have they tipped the ante yet
i tremble to look at it
switching tabs to the deadly news
so walking the ramparts; yes, and
the corpses i see, or telegraphic
trick, the Sphinx’s vexing prize
that riddle i still can’t remember
//
and would we take up arms
against the legendary walls
of Troy, discrete infinities
by logic of desire
by Tyndarean oath
soulquaking fear
kinsplitting lust
or unendurable rage
and would we, trembling
turn the word around our grief
with blinded eyes, who work
the catastrophes of love
//
and who was she, her silk slippers
silent across the golden floor
the guarded pit of destined apple
lily white eye of the bloody storm
her syllables locked in a jewelry box
the whole word, world-ending woman
wordsmith of disinterested tools
worldsmith of sterile fiction
if she could only work it through
her desperate clarity for water
self remembering un-working war
a verb for herself wrung clean
but how she loved and if she did
then would she trust herself by daylight
and could she stand a beautiful nude
Helena at the mirror
//
and would we return true again
victorious from Troy
unbent, discrete infinities
by logic of desire
by twists and turns
by Hades passage
in our angry season
and Agamemnon, dead
and would we, trembling
turn the word around marriage bed
with blinded eyes, who work
the catastrophes of love
//
our organism element
our weaving waiting whom to see
low past the meadow, nettling
the rising and setting sun
the leaves are falling as you love
to be making music until sleep
from infant inhalation through
a rousing breath of song
these outward limbs are turning one
and inward twelve again, like pain
as stirring deep the earthy cauldron
bedroom of a virgin dream
and see the carp still strumming nerve
around the liquid shield for her
a flaming champion of rest
in the rolling river sphere
//
i want 2 b the brilliant word
with u
in the grove
approaching evening
she measures limbs of me by bird
my tragedy like comedy
she murders for imperfect love
and laughing plays me gently dead
as floating messengers of grass
deliver specks of sparkling pollen
to flutter nymphian hurricanes
and suckle clumsy in the flowers
do u know her now; of cursed word
flown round, pre-history again
swan daughter shining, self less law
of no returns, like poetry
ὦ φίλε Φαῖδρε, ποῖ δὴ καὶ πόθεν;
u b her lover 2
//
don’t b mad
at my posterior
analytics 4 u
hills of empties
not 2 much
& watch it thru
//
selamat hari raya Kuningan🌾
piscean field
i dreamed i was a carp swimming in the moat
that runs around the bedroom catching raindrops
and you were watching me; i was pearlescent
moon-colored with orange spots, moving swiftly
and my slits are liquid lungs into my ears
my curves are cool and clear, my eyes lidless
and i have swallowed plants and animals
of increasing scope and dignity, growing swollen
and fleeting undulant, your vision touching
my sunspots flashing heat, turning fiery
and i was fishing flames beneath the flowing stream
my scales a watery brightness and a warmth
nobody could put me out, the thunder, the storm
your atmospheric range was permeated light
and i was breathing it, my gills touching silver
my veils a golden breeze, piscean field of pleasure
i remember jasmine in the ghosted air
and thicker even than the empire of frogs
the bellows of your eyes, how they inflame
my heart, and what catastrophes you initiate in me
//
🌒
//
O honey my
hidden shining
& my ovening
//
semi-nude for a photo album
their birthday was the other night
the girls were going out; the grift
delayed by getting ready; gift
of tangled, sappy rattan; caused a fright
pan, she burned some flowers on you
meta-burban, real dream for two
polaroid tacky, pantries full
of shady tatters, curtain bulls
sister, it was no dress for winter
but they were grown enough to drink
something fancy from the blender
fermented guava, lava lake
lavender flannel, camisole
white linen sheets, hung in the sun
nigel and sandi, mel and sue
genre-bender, Java won
high horse, he has a song for you
but i’ll save it for another tone
her sweaty practice, overdue
vinyasa, tapas, organ brew
dizzy lizzy ate some rice
eat, pray, love, the antichrist
jihadi, mum’s worst nightmare
Gandhi, papa’s burnt-off limb
inter-dimensional makeout queen
Osaka airport, caused a scene
village gossip, words above
she’s never catching up on love
not quite posh, but pulp turned through
realism, my lands, god knew
so sliced the flippin' longitude
bless her heart and come on in
agrimony henbane dish
too-schooled harpy hysterical
raised pie of huckleberry fish
turned river-liver radical
there’s mantra in the air tonight
what kue set in sangga stone
rise with the moon, the howling dog
the crone, her voice memorial
white-footed goat is coming home
to graze by fiery sunset view
the desert camel, bringing bones
with mother Durga, chest tattoo
a secret pocket of soil and spice
elaborate belty-thing, rhizomes in knots
not big enough for where you think
whether it is cake
//
(wants cake)
//
texas talkin blues, like this
vernacular from full moon 5/11
genius loci, pura dalem
blog 2-yr anniverse & job well done
//
tea
a perfect orb is held by accident
the lip of cup, the curve of base, the lint
a maker measures leaves but never takes
the horizon, the fertile mountain-slope
a home in hand is seasoning for leaves
the dance, the steeping scene, the taste of rest
as takers, we fish out the wayward ant
to see if it can walk; it often does
the wanderer needs shelter from the rain
the angry, aching poverty of time
i give the moon, i take the moon, she says
who is the moon; composting circumspect
the softest earthquake breaks a mirror still
what tender for the heart of liquid sky
//
🌔
Needleworker
Pierce me once—the crying; pierce me twice—
The dying; pierce me thrice—my laughing tomb:
This quivering feline skin, some kind of lark,
Sharp noise, felt aerial, fled human wound.
O Queequeg, Lucy’s love, my Nobody!
Unmake ambergris soufflé to scrap and salt;
Pets, lapping shattered tiramisu, whet
Our mongrel tongues; embroidering the asp.
Bull-revelry, before we dance the waltz?
Your sutra swans around my ichthyan lisp,
To charm the vipers out—that feather in
Your bonnet inks my tapestry with bone.
I move to tiger with you on the cusp
Of animality, that golden-threaded throne.
//
🌘