Psalm 5

Exodus entwined in holds of
violet-stone-built keeps, imprisoned
radiance rivers in its
violet-fickle-weak partitions.

Madly sketched, gardenia-dappled
field of lilac, two-planed contour
lifts new whiteness into being.
Je n'aime pas, je ne peux pas aimer.

Neptune's net of seafoam cast
across violet surf, perhaps,
(light rests on water-tension)
Exhale, low tide, somewhat thickened

Bands of purity that lie
and grow to cover all
that is made visible in me.

Hymn to Death

Idolatry, addiction, lust-severed spines,
numbness-memory, lack of sleep,
and dust again to dust.
again to dust,
So blind,
So lost.

Embrace me, sirrah,
be my mothered-beauty
and take my everything away.

Cardinality

What are you
little black flower
(I am so
intoxicated by
your aerosol
flavor)

And where do your roots go
how deep
and how desperately
they clutch me

why are you
earsplitting
thirst

and how am I
so silently
crushed.

Whims

Engulfed,
I burn and blaze
in some mad psalm
of love.

Infected,
I lose and loathe
and dare to say
I know.

Rifted,
I flow and run
from my inner-self
into empty places.

Untended,
I cool and coalesce
into dewdrop characters
to spell why and say "whom?"

Tone

Impulse:
electron-freed
spinal race down to
fingertips, slow curve.
Contoured-surface pressed
skin molds to tight spiral.

Impulse:
race again
to curled force
and small tensions
at near-right angles
until the wire

breathes (before)

Falling below its earth to underground
where then recoil brings screaming atoms
back to differential straightness
when peaked velocity leads again to
closeness to the sun
and other celestials,
curve above and
curve below
and
rest.

The madness
that I am
is a pool
of crimson
petals.

Susurration

Where are we
what has happened
between the surfaces
of me and
yours (so sweet,
so cold)

should it rend asunder
me: leaving you with the
mad bloom so tenderly set
into the ground of me
by eyes
(so
long ago)

I wonder:
what will you do with it?

I ask.

(what does your soul say;
do not be afraid:
for I wish to hear it sing)