After the Invention of a Body


 

 

My body hears the ultimate

It hears the body of my wife

Not without life’s obscurity

The push and pull of instinct and reason

 

Dismantled years transparently

In a flight of a earth-yellow cocoon

Only your eyes that hold human water

Down from the lips of your serendipity

 

My eyes witness the face of my wife

The most immediate pregnant moment

That repeats in cyclic variety

The real girl is a new definition of

 

The countryside of identical throbbing

A surreal sensual substance of a womb

What it can do, how it can

Transform a world, a family, a life.

SONG DAWNS THE TURRETS OF YOUR MIND


5

Words, towards a poem
I have profited from them, quarter-hour wrenched
From these hands, survivors of poverty
Enter and exit, hope
On the corridors of Earth
From the charred tree of language
From noplace to now-here
Lost, between the good mornings and goodnights
Words, as an umbilical cord with faith
They are all made-up, I know it
Bibles, sutras, mantras, poems and history
Faceless divinities, abstractions
In the mineral belly of imaginations
The Modern poet must dare futility
To find a way out: the poem
To speak for the sake of speaking
In tongues desperate and incredulous
Hours of the somersault, myth, savior
So I spill these phrases, syllables, stars
That turn to a fixed center on paper, screen, eyes
Indelible letters that no one can dictate
Until I ignite and burn this dreamy gold to nothing
This is how poetry exists, how love exists.

Gateway of an Author


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

In the kingdom of poets, you are my
Pronoun intertwined, my lover of words
I read you like a lover touches you
.
.
I learn to be in your suppositions
Striving to yield in your lyricism
And break free in your hypothesis
In the realm of expression, you are my
Premonition of the dream of years
.
.
Arriving forever at distant wonder
Alphabets of yearning, unmistakable fountains
I attempt to enter your gateway of being
With the optimism of your humanitarianism
I read you like a lover touches you
First tenderly and then fiercely, over and over
Again, you are the singing in my brain
The lavish ceremony of my soul’s literature
.
.
I grasp at meanings in-between your sentences
And analyze you because you told me
That I could know you through your poems.

In The Center of the World of the Body Tasted


63

You fall from your body, in spring –
.
.
Like a shadow of unmoving patience
With virtues to name, your furthest points
the overflowing or natural erosion
The breaking point where flesh enters
Another state – stirring instincts of a million years
.
.
Your body aches, for a firebrand tongue of coolness
The firmament of male and female, ecstasy
The earth tremor of your buttock of green
A testimony of your solar jaguar eyelashes
.
.
Stroked not enough by time
Your orange cleft of midnight lunging
Transfigured by his spiral hands, encircling
Your caressed scents of lengthy slow longing
.
.
You fall from your body, it’s dusk
.
.
Fluttering like an unfinished melody
Between April & May, waiting and lasting
As a feast of unfolding horizons rushing
Towards music, festivity, orgasms of the house of wind
.
.
It’s not over, it’s just the black lips of the O r a c l e ‘ s beginning
Your juices are not overflowing, they are just incarnated in dream
Dissolving your senses like the buds of the lucid mouths of truth.