Graspings #23
each day the body grows heavy. melts into the cracks
in the concrete. was there ever a time it could fly away from
this head?
so. each day it presses against the bones rattling with their
own timbre. flesh is strong in odor, in sanguine muck.
lets stay vigilant through some nights
lets stop feeding it, stop drinking, stop
urinating, stop.
lets see if it will explode. or. like the death of a star,
implode (into a memory sucking in, if
memories (ever (do) anything) else.)
time crawls up the gullies, and you shan’t have this womb
shan’t have this womb.
this womb will have cobwebs like they say too many spiders
isn’t necessarily a good thing.
they say they say but the mind doesn’t care much because it knows
too little of its meat, meat that lolls in the mouth, meat that fold and
buckle. it don’t care la la la, it don’t care honey;
it don't believe. O spirit? soul? sex?
drugs rock and lo? and
love? gender --------
bender? dare I, have gone, there?
like the mind, the heart cannot carry much weight, cannot carry
time, too much tenderness, for tenderness is flesh, is muscle, is an arm.
the heart will lie crushed. will murmur into its own prophetic death.
for me, it will go first
into a darkened room. and
the body will scream outside
in the rain.
©hRj 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Reunion
Fie! Fie!
Five fies upon your stead.
How her eyes wander, lost
in my face, how
her embrace so toothy, so grown.
More than years has it been,
more than distance, too many legs
ran. Fatigue has no words, breeds unfamiliar scents.
Where have you gone o friend?
O fir-tree, o nymph you whipper of men?
If she is you
(young woman, wife, and mother),
please give me a sign. Let us ride again,
with the plume of peacocks,
with iridescence and flair.
O friend,
I admit I am a pocketful of fear,
I have a sad roebuck-longing
in the center of my palms.
I wonder, if
perhaps she is you,
just like I am now me.
But together, will you want,
my sister Ouroboros,
to crawl backwards into the sun?
©hRj2008
I'm not happy with the wording. wtf. Atleast I'm back somewhat.
Fie! Fie!
Five fies upon your stead.
How her eyes wander, lost
in my face, how
her embrace so toothy, so grown.
More than years has it been,
more than distance, too many legs
ran. Fatigue has no words, breeds unfamiliar scents.
Where have you gone o friend?
O fir-tree, o nymph you whipper of men?
If she is you
(young woman, wife, and mother),
please give me a sign. Let us ride again,
with the plume of peacocks,
with iridescence and flair.
O friend,
I admit I am a pocketful of fear,
I have a sad roebuck-longing
in the center of my palms.
I wonder, if
perhaps she is you,
just like I am now me.
But together, will you want,
my sister Ouroboros,
to crawl backwards into the sun?
©hRj2008
I'm not happy with the wording. wtf. Atleast I'm back somewhat.
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