Poppycock June/July 2014 - Page 37

Premises Untitled a lapse in the innate the promise (prospect) is in the parting. and those trees, the naked ones (the winter ones) --veins of black silhouette -we pull them up; uprooted dip into ink and brush the sky. sacred geometry in the gases of our orb. breasts cupped and spine arched, imprints everywhere. on our flesh. makes our muscles bind a coating, and another -tough coats of, tough white: and then an inner retina the cooled stardust a bed of pine needles there in the strata, our hologram glimmer away the water wheel the cords of light chords this meat is hot after all the lonely espresso Historical Fractions II now it’s blended with butter we’ve got to get fluids into you somehow 2.5 or the fats you’ve come into reinvention. and me? without accomplice? without you I gaze into windows, a life with a table and chairs. as solo witness I confirm green sprouts through the ruins, injections? the promising painted sky liquefies at dusk -spilling over bluffs, eroding summits, catching and combing the forest floor, gathered masses: bathed, pushed into one. becoming the calorie become the cal red urine: beets or blood? so many bodies in beds it flows through the city streets so that I may drink from the gutter as a stream. sweet galaxy blankets 3 tucked and washed and in the low light I watch your form when I catch you staring into a photograph. I could claim you as my own -- a tribal sense historically and before -- we landed, a meeting spot outside, the herd of elk are staring at me. indoors we slice open the ceiling, rubble tumbles in upon us. buried alive in the human form! it was the longing. we wanted abundant light, hardwood floors, a clawfoot tub. we could roll in dust and cough. we could pound the walls and summon the neighbors. you want it to be this way right? you want our clothes and our blood, or just the memories? young spirits buzz in old places, but here lies the mystery: white blood cells - the fighters, the lymph. cerebral cortex, tell me words tell me feelings nutrients to cells, waste exchanged. inspiration, expiration and only one long passageway: mouth to anus. i’ve seen the strata -i’ve seen the slot canyons. give me more fluids, and a pair of boots to overcome the remains. calls come from around the globe: buy radishes and drink them like wine yes, chop them, soak them. . . 3 drop iodine 1L h2o and you’ll be ALL GOOD my friend from England kisses my mouth what we see from this nostalgia people like you and me you’ll look and listen who know how to read and dig diggers some raw beating truth under there? pulsing birth birth birth when will we dance? like they do in Senegal 37