Caesus
If I am bleak, let it
be of whiteness,
frailty knows
no other veil.
And if I remain
a vessel of memories:
Of beauty, beauty that
lingers forlorn and blind--
Wrap his hands in vines
and not lilies; the moon
bare as my legs, seeds her vision
as the sun casts shadows
over my eyes.
Barber
Hairy little men
I've got, hiding in my ear.
Verbal Contraptions:
By means of saliva,
deep sighs and black
tongues
Has anyone seen the Barber?
He Was Dreaming
My limbs: unchangeable.
From the bowels of the
Earth, up-shoot mushroom
legs. I am stalks of fat, of
milk and honey
Tickled clean, but
remembrances bear with them
loneliness.
I am skin-exposed, white naked
beneath,
roots are stiff and I
let silence breathe
from one hole, two holes
One for spitting, the
other to take in
milk and honey and
all the fat breeding
in my naked red belly.
I am slick and dumb and
blossomed but
based on nothing more than his dreams.
The Dance
Milky threads
plucked by a
swollen tongue
when seasons
melt to
Spring,
the dancing ebb
of spiders; mocking
I saw this when
she smiled.
Paper Moon
and virtue lies
billowed, untouched
sinking into soft
burrows of light. She
spills from nocturnal
mouths; of death
moist and pregnant
Hera, like the Moon
I drank ‘till
I was full.
Here
Fickle fancies dancing
under glass; painted shadows.
I know the Black Array
has made its march and
torched the milky hands
of the dead. Mother,
Mother, he's here! He's
here! Ringing the bells
of sable watchtowers.
I am fickle, I am funny
swooping in, as blackbirds
do with their Winter-
white bouquets.
Very Soon
Very soon will you
understand
the concept of truth.
When you begin
to rest, she
will come to you
and reign in absence,
you will wish you
were there.
Together, we
will tread forever.
Pillow
A master of the
silenced, fatal in
words, Pursing these lips
to the pillow
not to kiss, but to
scorn. A bump grows
to boil, in my dreams
I'm dressed, liquefied,
though they reveal
not truths, but
tall-tales I cannot
decipher. He
sinks into my skin,
the fabric that is
and lies beneath
silences.
silences.
With bellies in the kitchen,
hands in the bathroom,
and a finger in the bedroom:
I try to smile,
no, it is not forever.
What Milk
what milk
never fails,
platonic will
supply
where muscle
will grow
weaker, my grin
can taste
the sweat
when you begin
to bead down
my lily
white
hands.
When the Sun
When the sun
has descended, she,
hanging like an orchid
falls
in Winter.
You will find her
full bellied,
saturated with
tears.
Magpie
Withered wanton
billowing in
blue veined; dancing
eyes
Glitter in my mouth.
I thought
I was a truth
but now I don't think,
I don't think.
If
If I was a virgin, I
would tell you birth
could cure any disease.
And if I could,
my spine would soften,
lips would whiten; fuse
together with thin, wet threads.
If I could, I would be.
be
strangled by
the string of mucus which
once connected me to
the land of the Living;
and of the Dead.
The womb is Bucolic Limbo;
the still and silent
amniotic baptism;
surpassing even mouths
agape,
for cords pitch no words and ears
are still swollen
If I could, I would tell you
of the sickness
Floating: Soft Limbs of Ivory,
a prelude to the Pool
of blue children
and their Mother's once ample
middle.
Yellow
"Stale bread meets."
"Dry legs."
(Applause)
(Laughter)
----------------------->
The Arrow to all
your greatest
dreams.
. . . And the
worst.
"An apple tree."
(Applause)
Over there. See?
"She has bitten the----"
(Laughter)
"A funeral of ants have blackened
the palms of----"
(Laughter)
Time.
is dripping.
He's white as
DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?
DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?
-Please turn the page.
Congratulations.
You have completed
(me)
(Applause)
A pendant hangs over the moon. But she
never really cared for diamonds.
(BOO)
"Oh my god! The mice are wearing
dresses and top hats!"
(Laughter)
[She has opened the door.]
It locks
automatically!
(Wink)
She is bent over.
the baby carriage. (Cheap shit. of
of of of of course she'd
love it)
(Laughter)
-------------------------->
The only arrow you will ever know.
[With or without light.]
(Wink)
ssiiiggggh.
YOU DID IT.
"no, no, no. Not hhiiimmmm."
-Turn the next fucking page.
All of your tomorrows will start here
--->
When you're alone in the bathroom and
<---- he's got you by the ankles.---->
END.
The Pool
f l o a t i n g
Soft limbs of ivory, graceful internal pools,
she ( light n e c t a r ) f a l l s , banshee screaming
liquefied Not my child no. Not my child.
the pool is f u l l: pedigree and Adam's ale.
(bleak) a r c t i c z o n e. "one with her h a n d s
o p e n
don't be afraid, she said
no one will know it
just y o u and m e
and when it's o v e r
i'll go back"
Hel's Lament I
The heart beat is
but a ripple beneath his hyde,
only the shallows of my bones know
how to keep me treading on
and on, drowning in and out.
The blinking eyes, the
twisted touch or the calm
of each breath, floating
on a stale ocean breeze
I used to smile to know
I am blue-eternal, a sea-
weed incarnation.
I am ticking,
click, click.
The drum of another season
melting beneath my chest.
A rapid panic wades in the eternal
quaking, quick shiver of my heart
No more sighing, no more:
A beat turns to hum, and hum
to murmur and from hence, a gasp
To be swallowed air, breeding is a place
of breathing,
Oh, hiss, hiss
shining tide,
or not. Jealous of death, the final
pounding wave, a gulp of dry salt:
Drink your tainted water
This is the end of
eternity, maybe, and
this flesh will too
rot, and I am sullen.
Atlas
Flesh falls into
flesh, unattatched.
I won’t say the
aftermath isn’t easy,
doesn’t hurt, because God
made little
white nightgowns to numb
the ideas of hands
and legs and mothers
and babies and leaving
and the art of forgiving.
Art, and the
atlas of anatomy.
Hollowed
Nobody shelters the damned
for fear of damnation--
Then, if not for fear, has Love
hidden her frail body; other
than in the caves of our hollowed
hearts?
Fields
There.
It curls itself
around like dry milk.
Aeolus breathes
the desert unto
Pastoral gold; a
swollen nipple
No tears for lush
stalks of women,
even as they dance
under sterile
suns.
Theda
You are
blood in Eve's burrow, where
shells of Venus could not
bite through,
could not dry
the paps of pretty words
of pretty babies, or pretty girls.
This is rising.
The Delphic eyes, the
black, black crow biting
my lips. To spread, to envelope
these legs; my Winter,
lurking in his white cape
not ever knowing, admitting
he swallows rain
as my tongue curls.
And in time, a
mouth will be hollowed
for swollen lilies;
dead fathers-- who
like ordinary men,
beat their wives and kiss
their daughters as if
nothing
has passed the murmurs, the cherry bombs,
a whimper, emptiness.
Not even my cold, black
stare:
Mother, willing, will I die
parched or sharp
with this needle nonsense of
words, words, words?
Pining for another sip
her fingers lace with them,
red-rose nipples, no
Father, no, no
not even the shrewd cloak
of my black,
black hair.
Welcome, Ghosts
Little orb; illusion
sprouting from my tongue
Here am I, golden and swollen
from a hundred good fucks.
You bend, ethereal, from body
to sky. Omnipotent yellow with teeth
and honey in my thighs, there
little seed glowing
Silent wraith of nudity, he could
summon me from Hell, but I
know weight as Heaven knows
absence:
Or if you wish to be near me, and
my life and my memory
my mouth will open very beautifully, suddenly
as if you had never
reached the sun: and I,
will linger there with lucid phantoms
delicately, everywhere and forever descending.
Hands, Pulled
Knots in my hands,
pulled threads.
Coiled naked, I shed
my skin
flow through me,
bullets of the sun,
silk taut, nectar
she knows me.
metal
Swimming in my veins,
Flow through me.
Hel's Lament II
The heartbeat does mock
when like a drum, it quakes
and echoes the eternal applause:
A foolish reminder of what
Devils will become you
when you recover
from the constant
thump, thump,
breath after breath.
Yes, my cruel heart,
I will in death recover
you.
Only then will the bellowing, burst
of my laughter
become the only beat you
know
bravo.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.01.2010
Alle Rechte vorbehalten