Three Hundred Fifty Five Million

The waveform people took it.
The form of love between us,
the gravity.
Back to their mansion in the woods,
on a planet
three hundred fifty five million
light years away.
Can you see it leaving in the city?
In every city on the planet,
past the grimey stains
on subway stairs.
The people leaving the cities
to live like the waveform people,
in their woods
three hundred fifty five million
light years away.
Let them walk upon earth and snow
in the winter.

Said the waveform people.
Let them cherish their human
manners.

But the mansion is not there.
Only the blue sky
of the waveform people above.

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From A Spaceport

  
It is a spaceport
where we found love.
With its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
A sky above.
Always some kind of sky above.
Kill me when there is no longer
some kind of sky above.
But we lived there still
with its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
With its imported fruit,
monitored air,
and industrial hangers
bringing in the pollutants
from the men of Earth.
In all that is sick.
In the failure and necessity
of our species
we found love.
We found the one necessity
that still survives
in the words, attention, and
glances of the other.
We found the glances of the
other
and the hum, that one long
hum
of everywhere, every moment,
molecule, and memory.

Ripe Womanly Presence

In the summer
I will want to jump
from the city bridges
into the polluted river below
to celebrate
the carcinogenic world
that men have built
from their grand manly
leadership,

then I’ll climb out,
walk home
to be loved properly by you
and your ripe womanly
presence.

Satellite At Night

I watched my shadow on the grass
walk in night.

The lamp cast it sad, human,
and remnant.

Is to be human
to be remnant,
          longing to live on some rock or star,
          burning away in the sky
          with 50 million years behind us?

Do these friendships turn into
satellites,
circling high above
so
we notice our silhouette in distance
on the grass . . .

Redemption Of A Red Planet

mars.jpg

We can only but get to Mars now

Can I kiss you?

Can I under those blue white skies
skirt the hues of red and orange
and beige
and feel your textured, crusted lips

dry there

waiting for a humanness to know you

amongst routines, ritual, and duty
to clone
the next progenial elation

to sample
to sample
what were the forms and ways before
in a new kind of gravity
a different context
the answering of ionized metals
for redemption

for our redemption

the new ways of being

so
from this space port I buzz to you

my mercury and iron oxide singing

Cream, Sweat, Deodorant Infinity

Cream-Sweat-Deodorant-Infinity

Oh, the scent of her fall
cream, sweat, and deodorant
by the dark bedroom shadows
or morning living room sunlight
by the calls of our heavens
our ancestors
were lovers and deviants
breasts carved for spaceships
eclipses of planets
asses and shape shifts from
the young to the old
her crow’s feet aside her eyes
by porn star eyeliner
by the vestibule of my biological
carrying
I want her like the sunrise
everyday
for worship
for religion
until I die
or one of the middle age actresses
on “Designing Women”
these impressions are permanent
neural tissues or the Fountain
of Youth

Winter For The Northern Lake Country

It
will always be the one
I remember

when
she walked out
the door

and I
didn’t follow her curves
into
the rain of
the cold night

or
the lights of the street
fill her eyes
turning the sentiments
of men
into loyal tragic sadness

I watched the mirror
I watched the clock
I failed to watch her leave

then
the winter settled in

and
I bought wool socks
for
the
winter of the northern lake
country

The Matriarch Freemason

  
She’s going to
place things
in paragraphs
for me.

The way that she talks.

The pace that she speaks.

A partitioning of characters,

a placing of time.

The beats between the world
and
outside

we shelter
into love,

this love within
the walls of
old buildings,
built of crumbling bricks.

Summer Little Beauty

She had a monochromatic mole on
her face

Just above her brow

It played with a poetry of brown hair
and
blue eyes

like the breath of the beach and the
blue sky above it

Every single moment that I walked
away from a window
where she stood
was like a new eon being created in
the cosmos

A crystal star, a crest of drawing ocean

One unique feeling
amongst all the lives that have lived
under
the sun

Fort Worth ’05

The summer was soft to us

That first one there

Fifty-something days of a hundred degree
weather

Though we laid close at night
in the cold air cooled by a window unit
and swaddled
in
cotton blankets my mother had given us

Trees lived in that place and we still held
hands
when we went for walks in the evenings

There was something there that made us
hold hands when we went for walks in the
evenings
and the scent of sprinklers spraying water
over parched grass and warm concrete
rose to meet us
and would stay in just that one way
deep in the tissues of our brain

when we were able to love

in such conditions so far away from the
callous city in which we met

When we were able to love, God
God, when we were able to love