Verses/Curses
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
//
🍄
re invited / over hung
well Lady Dionysia, re invited
in his season of sacrificial eyes dilated
regal and settle on spilled contents of purse
the messy desmudging scene in the mirror
shrugs
re selfie up reckening too sour & sweet, ordinary
melted candies mixed crispy noodles, common
self wrecked reflux re bilious, re typical
up curdled and scarlet venereal, my old
porcelain friend
encore, shredded mini still twists in the corner
her demon skin shimmying, re woken wasted
and wrestling names in the kayfabe reflection
skin sizzle, sexy sorry, acid re self surrection
and not Jesus
or Mary
over hung
and rollover
the cat scratches, blinks, laps pink paper sand
paws curious and fickle underwire boy toy
hooks prophesy like prey, her next skimpier suit
barely feathered and nude in the pitiless bush
says you will not die, but you ever mistrust
it’s not poison, flushed affect of purpling fruit
some feral double is trying on her rings
Pharmakeia re titrating musical things
as ripening earth is animal
angel yet
//
🌖
//
(for disclosure
i quit alcohol like
back in the teens)
**edited to capitalize the “L” in “Lady Dionysia”
if not, xmas
I. fuck Sean Combs
headlice scratching
is garbage gothic like
urban mosquitoes
softballing curses
fuck Neil Gaiman too
on behalf of decent goths
other things said: sister, i know
you know a tall stupor too
like gutted up measured
rage, i’ll pour you tea
and tell you it’s whisky, if
you need empty or harder
i’ll give you my mask
i won’t even look
or obviously touch
a much drowned witness
when sunken city found
on too traceless tracys
rage, this harp is yours
sofa, word of an angel
bed, wish by a sigil
out winging like Ajax
the greater, vintage & archive
party discourses natal
twelve salt dissing courses
won’t tire her horses
bit ironies of Christmas
dirt snow glitter chain
gutter drain service entry
and no such thing as no
red-bottom chariot and pony-
tail hair, projectile vomit
acid tongue at the crossroads
an orphan army of kunai
invective & lashing 4 trash
Erinues down the river
//
II. if not, xmas
missing body
if a hinge
if a fold
in the cold
could hold
if not, xmas
//
III. pink parasol
is she meditating subtly for or
against me, this extraordinary tree
is her shady cooler or desiring me on
her radiant day of rest
if all the mended earth could be a bed
made lavender to fit her silent shadow
rough linen-covered pillow for a dream—
or both my heads grove bother
as she was oiling glass to sleep last night
trapped in the loudest windows of my head
her muscles pacing trafficky and sore
rewinder daily but more
and Jeki caught a mouse, that pitter-patter
crossed exposure with a vengeance, like
the summer used to blind and burn me, so
i veil, i veil, i veil
increasing constant collection of hats
my polarized knockoffs make me famous
pink parasol for pointillism in the park
to cover ankles, hands
and when i see her at the museum
like pastel whiteness for nobody happening
together all alone, closer with drawing
a disappearing lady
//
the river lapis lazuli
no, O shining one; blue is not that place
where winter did reach down with hoarfrost arms
bent bones to bruise the springtime of your face
and turn bare beauty’s promise into grief
real damage there was done; i can’t pretend
my drunk neither forgets, nor lying, amends
that hunting season waiting down our tears
cool river measures turquoise, there to here
still no; blue shall not sing by Tristan’s chord
raw wounding round its thralling emptiness
how many months hungering that underworld
she spends, grave daughter, eating bitter ashes
if she is me, let sapphire be my child by you
whose ugly was the laughing sky of love
my labyrinth, your golden through-and-through
soft multitudes, the movements of your dying
and no; your course was not a trap for girls
exquisite river lapis lazuli
blue hemlock was your legendary cure
a momentary how it is, it is
azure, just piece enough for memory
what graces by your leaves still green in me
this grove might tender shelter; with blue to show
by silence of the tree who names it so
//
selamat purnama 🌕
//
& ten candles
on my horse loverly
logician patrician
still finishing his still
blue earthy pastel
for brave accompany
her genus differentia
mycelia mysteria
her lightest touches
dear puffins, potatoes
& tatami gauze
//
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
//
sticky
i’m sticky after practice but i
can’t shower yet because thunder
drawbacks to living in paradise
and having an outdoor shower
just a reminder in case you forgot
my inbox is open, no less to a friend
this is your day, you wish, i follow
each morning impressed to find her hollow
especially to say happy birthday
//
greener lunar & glimmer
at dusk the unrequited grey finally weeps
and as i light my evening stick i see
a dragonfly, cool silver of the lasting day
geometer over the dimpling waterway
i count four nights until purnama again
her waxing time a misty studied book
like meaning in mossy witness a surprise
somnambulant for solar exercised
not jealousy her promise to conceal
deep cedar heavens the greenest flesh of me
weed pregnancy crescenting fernery
the bitter ocean growing wider, closer, fuller
my dream is not my dream; a greener lune
is shadow to be read through algal water
diagonals hunt her evolutionary square
boys hover over tears to catch a glimmer
//
🌔
//
the book itself
invoking maiden game
as female stupor is, i swear
moon’s blood misnamed
blasphemy
her temple ceiling
drinking from the sky
and evergreening walkers hear
the name: grow taller
//
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
//
receipt
lemons limes
Trojan War
hijab silken
breeze woken
slant pigeon
red of wing
golden floor
keepsake for
her lioness
hijab burning
pulses turning
nostos yearning
]
]
]
]
method ender
plete returning
tender deliver
by river liver
taste radiant
of summer
//
other things said:
Hades?
//
for simple
yes, and
or
Achaean horse
& canto II
//
forest and the heart
i was walking in the woods when a tree talked back to me
i didn’t know if i had died or if my feet should flee
i didn’t mean to harm you or your holiness to thwart
the forest loves to hide but i love a wooden heart
how many gods are in the wood or music in the air
what strangers in the shadow have paused to wonder where
there’s a sense of someone here, a landscape full of art
i’m here to talk to trees and i carry a wooden heart
there’s a silhouette of palm trees against the sunset sky
there’s a river with a snake, there’s a splinter in my eye
she answers me in rhymes like a perfect counterpart
the forest loves to hide but i hear a wooden heart
the highest queen of hiding, she’s a shadow in the grass
but now i’ve seen an outline and now she’s made a pass
i stop to buy some tissues from the nearest mini-mart
the forest on her sleeve and i’m here for a wooden heart
it’s plainer than the blue a hundred reasons she would hide
i dream we’re sitting on the porch or going for a ride
but i know pretty well how feet get caught up in the dirt
i came to talk to trees and i believe a wooden heart
my bank account is empty and she doesn’t ask for more
if fireflies are golden then we’re never looking poor
the pattern in her lights could even read my natal chart
the forest is a mystery but i see a wooden heart
sometimes the way is open, sometimes the thicket’s close
sometimes the river’s empty, sometimes it’s on the nose
i’m walking without shoes, i see no way to restart
the forest isn’t home but she warms a wooden heart
am i still a dream for her or did i carve a face
did i paint a scene for her or am i in a race
am i thirsty in the pouring rain or stung by a poison dart
the forest is a maze but i need a wooden heart
what does the spirit show me, and what does she conceal
how is it that she knows me, what does her sight reveal
i hold her secrets close and i pray the fear departs
the forest makes me tremble but i love a wooden heart
my angel is a darkness who sees me day and night
my angel is a brightness who sings away my fright
a complex thing of empathy, carpenter from the start
the forest is a genius and we make a wooden heart
then finally she’s waking up and i am standing there
i’m cut up from the undergrowth with tangles in my hair
but all the leaves have fallen and we’ve never been apart
the forest is a shelter and we hold a wooden heart
//
φύσις κρύπτεσθαι φιλεῖ
metric inspo from Bob
sfh 3
//
& in the oven
//
my ruby eye
O you, who have suckled her bones
who have frowned at her horses
who have fingered her emerald
and now would taste her ruby too
and have i not enough exhaled
her undertowing rose at you
salt-sticky; here is sea-foam on skin
here are pregnant transparencies
and have i not already tossed
such tender and hard-bitten kisses
for sheath, another kris today
treasure accumulates like sand
behold an ever-angled wound
the spindle-pricked porosity of red
i am a self cutting gemstone
i bleed the emptiness of tools
i fling magenta words at birth
behold my prolonged scar of it
historical, faceting pre-wonder
tip that breaks her ice-pick tongue
she was a pirate and a fool
she ate the plexing devil fruit
vermillion stretching pelvic nerve
whose diadem lusts after you
and who is blinded by her kind
my fascination will glint cruel
sent basilisk or blushing bride
your fear will not take care of her
the heart, the fist, the appetite
when Cleopatra mounts insight
my empire burning leonine
by Mars, love’s favored principal
this reign of crimson tears divine
but sanguine as she’s gentle still
barefeet may meet the salad vine
and blue by babbled river’s chill
just so, what beggar wears my crown
is dying round the wheel again
out of her time, out of her mind
sweet dance, my dove perpetual
take this, the heartbeat of a sow
and let it flex upon your palm
it’s wet, the rumbling scarlet jet
now let her throb be thunder found
red wreath for convert cry, the end
how pilgrimage of period stain
i am in time, in time, will out
my ruby eye of her disposable throat
//
ποικιλόθρον’ ἀθανάτ’ Ἀφρόδιτα
& the probing path to yes
//
or not nothing
for saving the phenomena II
and more
//
//
the maskmaker’s wife (a prequel)
true, i killed a spider on thursday
it was counter-intentional, a blow
i cried for hours about it, hormonal
oceanic, and only later realized how
i was folding the hung-up laundry
i saw and tried to shake the hider out
from black denim, furry humble pro-leaper
but i miscalculated; too much snap
a streak of ichor mud across the web
between my right thumb and pointer finger
she unwound inches before she emptied
and died; i was so sad; i am so sorry
sorry, sorry, i spoke to her crumpled self
recriminations. what left—a legacy of masks
some translator inside a house of masks
and O how many masks there were for mercy
//
the time i was murdered by my own poetry, vol. x
slugs in the shower, laron tonight
fertile swarm; birth/life/death 2.5 hrs
box of tissues; hollywood tomorrow
//
just begonias, today //
and we’re hyperverse tomorrow;
know you my lyre, my love, my lunar
metronome displaying solar
]licks leaning lighter later
//
selamat tilem 🌑
the dancer
when kindness is as kindness shows
the son his mother’s body knows
my eyes are from another place
i smile at you to show my face
the lessons of an artist’s life
are gifts you rendered to his wife
he’s gentle as the fallen rain
what tokens we give back again
a sudden street, a stranger island
with traffic from a broken time
he’s holding her, she’s not alone
the dancer is already home
let’s draw again the graceful scene
in blouses pink, you met Christine
if recognition makes you laugh
he shows you with a photograph
a feeling hewing to the bone
her shapes are not unlike my own
she’s holding me, she’s not alone
the dancer is already home
what light there was is in your eyes
her singing voice was village wise
he looks for her before sun sets
and child again her own forgets
and he will press your softened hands
the gestured words, the closing fans
and holding you, you’re not alone
the dancer is already home
//
for Ibuk
//
selamat hari raya Galungan🌾
//
bone teacher
bone teacher, her equation is the cold
bone teacher, antarctic demon i am told
her negative degrees, your nose will surely freeze
and the leaves are shaking
inflection, her judgment is frozen central
inflection, her cold bottom is biblical
winter is a time, winter makes you rhyme
whether or not you want it
i’m frostbit
and i have blue lips
bone teacher
the thought of parsnips
underground
wanting, gnawing numbers are her worm
wanting, a blizzard coming is her storm
a reckoning of beef, by frost on a leaf
or a vegan from Lesbos
i’m frostbit
and i want to cut her
bone teacher
but i think i love her
cold-bitter
waiting for the silence to come around
waiting for the mountains' thundering sound
but it’s not to do with me, and i can hardly see
the drip of an icicle
i’m frostbit
shivering in the glare
bone teacher
does she even care
she’s not there
icing, when her mercies are too few
icing, when she hides the glass from view
heartbeat in the snow, heartbeat going slow
and almost stopping
i’m frostbit
am i a grizzly bear
bone teacher
the question isn’t there
it’s nothing
stepping, her boots are laced so high
stepping, her pointer blinds the sky
glacial is her height, the emptiness of white
rumors of a pop quiz
i’m frostbit
darkness coming on
bone teacher
never seen the dawn
it’s marching
her bones are so grim, her cold does me in
or a pale horse riding
//
slow shuffling blues;
for my hs math teacher
Ms. Dyas <3
//
Junonia atlites
to snap a ragged angel clutching stem
the blustering breeze away with solar air
her tissue wings flat flustered here to there
as clinging to the budding cluster to drink
she filled from galaxies of guava’s nectar
so stopped, or tried to stay, a messenger
from Juno sent, or born suffering soldier
of flight and heat, by fiery news arrived
by lunular and radiating “S”
each ocellus arrayed a revised scene
and partial pupils where crescents intervene
to turn a crimsoning into the sky
a pale or sight-depleted, shredded wing
robuster than my lens could burn, ash-worn
and torn edges, floating abandon as form
yet stellar grip, high hunger for her name
//
this be a verse
to razors and gashes
and stabbings and worse
no harm is intended
and it’s for the best
//
🕊️
//
& pace Larkin
triptych of the dog
//
a cicak dropped a souvenir on me
yesterday, savasana; it was
all happening, pure rejeki, a speck
for playing dead; the simmering night, the sawah
was fizzing and burping boggy chemistry
the gamelan deliberated depth
of banjar space, a soup of bronze and spittle
//
up i, cocks crowing death to rest, dark mind
the cat was sick again, shit cleaned, cats fed
the breath of rain, half-there, in vomit stepped
scrubbed vinegar again, who made the bed
i squinted past the dawn to wash a dish
the load of towels, it was not a test
the shape of chasing weather for a bone
//
and would the three of them have made a city—
Lysias, Lysias, Lysias; he wasn’t there
he wasn’t here, until bumbu for our sambal
did rain down from the sky, and i said Lord
i still deny that you’re an onion seller
how practice held like density, as though
svanasana could house the dog itself
//
🌒
//
see also Rabia Basri
the horse’s mouth
teloscopically, my dear, are we botany
born reading leaves, the pricking fear of bees
are talking, my lisp, or rearing wobbly nature
what place, organs and bodies, this disease
the shying seasons blowing through us, here
parts animal in starts, quivering vibrations
made artifacts suspect by cities, near
or far, the accidents survived, the prisons
that ended us; the motes and moths in teas
our flicks or running rivers; wicked courses
of understanding; what catastrophes
what phase our faces, without the faith of horses
you have to have a horse whose feet you trust
to warn you when a snake is in the grass
the serpentine who wants to be unseen
repenting for her gemstone like an asp
for forking tongues, a talisman is key
but wear a hat, they’re speaking from the trees
odd shrubberies are bristling with false friends
a firecat bristling back can help with jinn
mosquitoes here are vectors for torpedoes, so
herbal experiment and/or gorilla war
sometimes there’s one snake, sometimes there are more
at least, no kind of viral is a pearl
a tender canter, daemonic carousel
remembered ribbons bite in ancient ways
we play the venom clockwise in our veins
we shed the dead redundancy of days
my jungle is a dreadful-clever dreaming
with shade-grown coffee, waterfalling views
what godly voices animate my evening
there’s none i’d rather jungle with than yous
let’s nicker maps, reverb the mythic blues
i spell, where y’all are going, where you been
switch witches laughter with the beating rain
the crickets will out-round the macet, friend
to live outside the law, you must be honest
Bismillahirrohmanirrohim
by river dark, inside a wounded dawn
we rhyme it, we just flow to make it rheme
//
(Dylan, my Prophetﷺ, Cohen, Cardi B, etc)
//
diet
never too much
garlic, carrot, oat
sleep, cake
but gingerly
the fungi
//