Summer The Almost Killer

summer

The summer kills everything here

Somehow it didn’t kill my love for you

I wished it would have, but it didn’t

Somehow it still survived and
subsists to go with me into the Fall
with
the cells of my skin and my lungs
towards the winter closets
and the portals towards outerspace

So maybe the summer doesn’t kill
everything,
but it damn near did a good job

Dead grass. Dead grasshoppers.
Broken rocks and cracked asphalt.

Summer passes over the
landscapes of loss

So you become the road to Amarillo
in my heart

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Conquesting The Kitchen

When did my lost love make her last meal?
In what arid kitchen did she roast her last hen?
Was it turquoise-tiled like a home in Navarra?
Did she throw back some sherry as the flavors
married?
The roasting of her hen is exquisite.
Young men of Brooklyn
have you tasted the salt on its skin?

Oblivion has erased us.
Time simply wallowed.
Oblivion in the alcohol we drink each night we’re
apart.
She has a forehead I breathed many mornings.
Young men of Brooklyn
have you tasted the salt of her hen?

The security of money.
The conquests of capitalism.
Or was it called love in the muscles of our bodies?
Young men of Brooklyn
find her blue eyes with the flaking subway walls
behind them,
discover the salt of her hen
in the middle of her kitchen’s daylight.

When did my lost love make her last meal?
Young men of Brooklyn
find the spices of her kitchen,
let her tongue teach you these carnal anthems.

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They Walk On Water

They’re walketh on water
the bird said to me

Watch and you will see
a walk upon water this eve

Not I nor is she
the one to be believed

Tis hallowed we’ll heed
the clothed figure that passeth

They’re walketh on water
the boy and the girl

Un homme et une femme

They hold hands on a light path

On the sea On the sea
The one east of Galilee

They’re walketh on water
her and he

They walk on the water
I believe
I believe

The sun on my hand

Is what heals me

Invariable Genetics

When you
were in the
bathroom
with me
in the morning
getting ready
or
after a shower
I used
to look into
the mirror
at your
chestnut brown hair
and watch it
curl down your breasts
with your watery blue eyes there
flashing the lights
on
your potent curves
and the overall
queenly distinction
of your face

I would
think about
how good-looking
a son or daughter
from us
would be

I used to
look into the mirror

I used to
look into the mirror

I don’t look in the mirror anymore

You’re gone

That bathroom only
exists in outer space
floating quickly away
from Earth
and
journeying deeper
into the Universe

to a place no one will ever know