I observe man
as an attempt
as pantomime
as desperate confabulation
to be what it knows
it cannot be
a perfectly trimmed
beard
a perfectly shaved
pussy
a chameleon’s last
color to camouflage
its lust
and most importantly,
its fear
I conceive mankind
as if it were the most
embellished monument
and while I walk
under its cool shadow
I reflect:
its brevity compels
me to hate it
its meaninglessness compels
me to love it.
You who are born from the edge,
gleaming,
you who will taste the lines
of the streams of light
reflected on your tongue.
You whose sigh will
feel like home
because the mouth is
an exhausted chimney.
You who will not yet understand
an erotic moon on gray waters,
you whose body is as warm
as the concept of sleep.
You who will soon scratch the air
with savage fingers.
And I don’t know why.
I can only leave you
a beautiful ambiguity,
a map to the beginning.
I have one penny of certainty,
to buy a glimpse of sky.
Then hunger and reckless
vortex of night.
Mankind is as sweet
as a machine’s ambition.
I am the bitter cog.
But allow something like a flower
to grow from this
stump of philosophy.
A fragrance or hope,
a whiff of purpose.
To suffer is a fortune,
and pleasure a Pyrrhic victory.
When I lay paint
on the canvas, I press
hard all the colors
towards a grey pact.
There was once
bright red love,
cold blue thought,
intense yellow joy,
dark green solitude.
Today the mess
is grey and this totality
cannot be undone.
I carry this enterprise
of chaos towards a prism;
perhaps if reflected
far beyond the senses,
this senselessness,
will make sense.
While these hands
have broken bread,
caressed drooling
lips of pleasure,
while grey wax streams
down these cheeks
for soon the path is fog,
a dotted line of street lamps,
lumps of light
doses of darkness,
nothing but cold in the event
silence in the hour;
a particle swinging between cars
and the busy lives of chimeras
this shadow amongst transparencies
this elevation without certainties
I navigate like lost wind
through edifices and glow
seeking a new contradiction
a newer totality
or the last
dust of god.
as a man
stepping intangibly
on shadows
over illusions
one more man
that wishes to
scar the universe
one more man
defiant, futile
and ergo
drunk
a man
without claw
or reason
still looking
for a single star
in the black sky
of his heart
Hinted
then ripple
of white gasp
the entire orb
of inspiration
then the clouds
the sun hiding
in total light
the task is to use a daub of paint
to depict a mistake
or a river of thought
or pain eating the soul
as if it were soft bread
I sense a feeling
empty of emptiness
it is full of invisibility
the irony is
the instant is like blood
never seen but intimately wrapped
a cut an explosion a gash perhaps
and the world is all red without words
like an apple
timeless
on the table.
Haunting
hustling hurrying harrowing hurling – hush.
John, if I knew one, would be right.
Take the marmalade
and spread
it over the bread.
Taste it as
the eyes taste light.
Yes. Simple emptiness,
delicious shine. Buddha sits
in the TV room. The rain clouds.
It is good jam.
here is earth
all earth dreaming
this sliver of earth
this earth of maze
a rueful path on earth
all earth divine
hard as cock
as breasts voluptuous
this earth of sex
and dream and pain
here is earth
all earth excelling
in voice and void
this earth like
body drunk
with melody
so much
to tear a song
from artery
and replace the
heart for a warmer
stone
a rivulet of memory
without ultimate value
a field where
the truth bends
as incense
when sleep
is a crumb
of eternity
an immense
solitude
in darkness
souls in flakes perhaps
sore of flight
come to alight
in strange dances of silence
what fever
by which the stars
seem like children
dim against the
thickness of the world
to stare at her
for hours
while her shadow begins
to curl like trunks of smoke
on the wooden floor
to escape the heavy
brief pale
gaze of
strangers
to be close to her
as close tangled
irreversible
as hours are to years
to hear her voice
like the hieroglyph
of a flower
carved into the
speech of rocks
to touch her eyes
when the walls of the world
become calm timorous
mirrors
to face each other
and collide like antonyms
in the swelling unity
of love
Beyond Language 
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