LOVE POEM # 14

I love the smell of acid rain
gas stations lit up
by useless signs, fish-scent
in the oil of ceaseless electronic air:
our two mind-capsules heavy
under the lash of eyes
from the belly of a tree,

slums answered with barks
of celebration, the poet-warrior
slumping to his last mirror.

I love the docks untidy with guts,
hammering lemon & tomato odors
in the hot air of forever,
stunning its sights into scarcity,
behind the pink eye's beyond:

one nickel parked
on a cooling driveway, I remember
a truck rattled in the empty road
until you closed the window.

early dyers, living
forever. Stuck in the eye
of a monument.
All doorways open
grapes in the threshhold
to the outside air,
fish in the black blur
of a holographic moat,

fishscale measured to the eye
snail feel menstrual protein
under the ridge
of a snarled nail
coming home to computer dinner.
Sad frog's frozen, eyes
looking out over a desk,
legs ruined to a chair,
to sit & observe: retinas
of chainsmoke,
a bad pastiche of mustaches,
sit and stare each other's
beings until the body
and its clothes are turned
high white quartz
then marble deep
in the eyes
burst-first.

lates

answers came from other fields,
out around a colossal central mountain
to chains of reaction

the taste of a lemon, by anyone

the alternating sugar
the backbones
where they are paired

LOVE POEM # 13

the yellow
four petals; the white
the red
navel; the green airy,
whisp-

(((())))

he eyebrows the
union
the head spreads

to identify himself

liquid by water;
the incandescent

direct symbol.

LOVE POEM # 12

the white of this dog's fur
is so white, the black of his fur
is so black, his mongoloid angel
eyes, sweetly bulge

on paths toward no path,
he runs island edges near
the bay's lap, an ocean's

reverberator, his teeth & tongue
are greetings to the air,
that dog makes a man cry
who can't cry,

his white fur disturbs the black
of one room's sofa, his black
the white canvas of another.

LOVE POEM # 11

we are lust,
that is what we love with,
the skies we push out of the way
the numerous umbrellas that sheathe
our oversides,

we are a crown around
the root of a cliff-grown
sapling.

our heels dig in the same places
where our toes very recently did,
the beach we invent
overlaps the beach that invents us.

LOVE POEM # 10 Red Admiral

music-threads, my little bird
connects the connections
to the other connections
makes fertile soil moisten & surge
around the roots of the
telephone poles,

takes my poor head up into
the territory of my rich head,
moves my shins through my
elbows feelingly, the bellies of boats
are above our root,
the ceiling thatched
with underwear-leaves,

pillowed for every angle,
our bodies jutting
with bones in the tongue,
tongues in the bone,
quiet satisfactions that get louder
at their most
intimate ebb.

my shadow has two tails
one turns into your caress
the other is a spray of surf
that your caress brings me to

that room is an empty channel
I look for new ways to pronounce your name.

Sometimes I want to find
out if I have a spirit,
the way the tip of the tongue
tastes sourness,
the ceiling of everything.
-----------------------

----------------------we finished the page, the
brilliant script lasered into our
tent wall, green canvas in
a maze of birches, toothbrush
pathways sand-scrub bath

in faded cooler, finish, in blue
sleeping-bag interior finger vulva
finish, finish the tides with
your feet, dance the poles
upholding fishing docks, deep
into the beach, all restaurants

and deep computers shut off.