Walking with my girlfriend in the Japenese Gardens, June 2002

Rotten weather for a walk
        A summer, pregnant from her joy
It feels like thunder; too cold too fast
        A gazebo swallowed up in grape vines
The cement cramps, the darkness strains
        A blanket, some wax for the siren
Stemmed glasses? I disdain wine.
        Some juice, and sweet, till sweetly juiced
I thirst not, but my eyes for dreams.
        Athena grey-eyes, I see those dreams
Why would you want to kiss me?
        Modesty robed like leper’s on a saint
But why kiss at all?
        To partake of your body.
Don’t you care to breath?
        I had forgotten…
Oh those damned trains-so loud
        My lady teaches even trains to sing.
And that damned bitch of a mosquito is the seventh on that arm
        Our phylacteries will momento as we scratch.
Held so tightly, I can feel your ribs
        God? Negligent?
Softly held, held soft aloft, so I sleep,
        So tell me of passion, to you.
Perhaps for my family, again again for God.
        A purring in your guts?
So I’ve heard.
        A terror in your veins, like St. Sebastian?
Read too much.
        Or a fondling dream?

        Or a maenad’s arch?

        Or a prophet’s tongue, and screwed-up brow?

        Or the proudest child, mother’s joy?

        Or perhaps a minotaur-quite lost?

        Or an arrow in the void?

        Or my own vanity, from the rib of my God?

        Let’s get home lest you be late.



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