lip of dawn

Dawn lip

how could I begin
when the earth below
me
clusters in great furrows
of graphic skin
its glimmer trapped
in pockets of wrinkles
with the open slit
of red dawn
the opening lips
of a raw horizon
with my imaginary blood
in its arc,
‘ how ’
in this awry mirror
to begin
and inevitably
to end ?

 

 

 

Nihil
ist
ic 

passages of interpretation

passage_21st-century-poetry

To be a bed
where two flies procreate
a scoop of nailed flight
to be a hiding of swirls
and heavy wax hairs
alpine view here with the roar of a minute
to be born of sperm and fact
trapped between two breasts of dirty fruit
feeding from black poisonous miracles
to be fallacies of waste
to have animals over you scavenge for dumb teeth
to be a gulf of chewed respirations
aging dawn of wings
crashing against oceanic mirrors
to be a bed of cactus
where virgins report to god
and sacrifice their blood to color
the brick walls of love
to be all the circles of anatomy
but not the equations of multitudes
the guilty resin of interpenetration
to be a savant sleeping under
hoards of cannibalistic dreams.

Poetry2011