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byMonday, October 11, 2010She had lovely arms, lovely as the feeling of a silk camisolebeing eased over a plump chambermaid’s head,or lovely like the touch of leggings woven from black smoke,and all you wanted was for her to be in, then out, of fabric.It was always! about the flesh being confused –it was always! about imprisonment and liberation.You never meant to choose this garden – it was always!location, location, location for the right kind of seeds.
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bySunday, October 10, 2010On the left side of the quadranta Venezualan oil merchant shrieked:“Foul! This nimwit is lost in a nebulalooking for a military compass.” The broadsheetsin Andromeda rustled with a taciturn delight –all the docks had been unloaded of virgins –they were expecting no more shipments. -
bySaturday, October 9, 2010And it came to pass, it came to pass, it came to pass,with rictus and calamity, with the sinew of a tired world,that men had explored all frontiers, that life was closedfor the weekend, was thinking of selling up and movingaway to a place with a moderate climate and watersideviews, that the world had lost shape and was consideringretirement, getting plump, forgetting Prada, and settling downwith Pluto, the illegitimate planet, to grow fat on taboo or pie -
byFriday, October 8, 2010This world, without you;it is as this: night follows night -the dark day crawls into corners and glares.It asks me to add the gleam, to perform,to cast my own light on things:a beggar throwing alms towards the rich.Perhaps I’ll move with lighter feeton each loose shard of morning that is broken,or learn to love the clots of timethat can’t be shaken free.In this world, without you,I wade knee deep through the days black bilge:living alone; dying alone; sleeping as a monk. -
byThursday, October 7, 20101.In this turning awaylies your secret father,the concealed one.I have stolen the truth in his eyes.I have stolen the momenthe is afraid to let you see. -
byWednesday, October 6, 2010I orbit her without magic.I orbit her without magic and hereyes are dark.Her eyes are dark, and partof her is catatonic with the loss.I am wheeling in the distance,orbiting her without magic, andwith her eyes fixed to mine,little trooper,she reaches for a smilethat isn’t there. -
byTuesday, October 5, 2010Tacked to a limbo oflongitude and latitude,love-louse-ridden,humbled by the gray marchof time,all kisses assemblebehind my wooden lips:prepared;primed;expectant;they are staccato ready:toting their hushed nerves;their amassed silences;their unwavering aims… -
byMonday, October 4, 2010Everything is over.The moonless night.The laughter of wicked men.Even truth has been forgotten.This meeting of fingers -this flash of touch; this brief glancethat holds a sniper’s lethal aim.This is how it feelsto be frozen by divine accident.
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bySunday, October 3, 20106 a.m in Salistoga.Perhaps somebody makesyour skin sing with morning,with a gentle affirmationof touch,or you shakebeneath a seismic caress.My hands have never been this empty. -
bySaturday, October 2, 2010It is not the dark of a night, this climax we priseopen like a gulf: it is a cavern’s bowel;it is a fathom of ink;it is the spread of a black pall.We make loveto the crescendo of our own demise,our own reapers, cutting down the last need spiltwithout pleasure: not so much grim,but gone…
