Tuesday, March 1, 2011
How to withdraw a gaze
from a landscape carved in neon,
where the moon shines in the gutter and love.
How to withdraw the smile of words; that
birthplace of something buried, yet shed
but for graveyard conversation
of day breaking bread men and garbage collectors.
How to reverse any kind of sky
into light So flight might linger time
into an outpost of slow
where patience is an elegance
to those in the know.
How to, when electronic words
only tell him their surface
lean his lead into the crystal listening
of her immeasurable water and mind
to spend the week looking downward
as skin traders whisper by fingertips,
Would that she waken to a brothel of the blind,
so the biggest mistakes make of themselves
a high-rise beyond understanding.
How to Injure Friday Immeasurably…
when paranoia and inadequacy intervene.
The title clung to the lap
like a consolation prize; an oblique enumeration
of chiasmus, his disguise.
Not a poet, not an intellectual, but of tar
brick and steel, the heart really thinks its stinks
An accidental urbanite of a countryside
tackled of its voice; he could not swallow
the breath of its brushed incredible beauty,
only his fear mounted panic of the
cut-out to leave her intact. Woken,
he could not return her to where she was before: to
rewind time for her and shore to the good
of cockiness snuffed the note pinned to
her deep and of his leaving: “I am as advertised – shattered.”
Now he could not stay in the room with her mouth
and hear in every phoneme that he wronged her so,
that he should have trusted her. How, that he waters
his never, the shade of scatter in the Sundays of her
that mattered, for if her Bouche were a zip
by the night sky’s unraveling.
Her well being is God in the waiting.