Shell The shell hiding the fire, Never able to smother it the more it tries the angrier the flames inside the shell, primeval, thunderous, invincible... You open your eyes, I offered you sight. You look and what do you see but the shell? Smile wrinkles around the eyes, white strands... It is though the same as when your eyes were closed, when sightlessly you listened to the roaring inferno as sun’s claw was dragging you into its cataclysmic heart and your insides were burning into ecstasy. No, don’t close your eyes again, You cannot hear it anymore, You cannot feel it anymore, It died with your opening of eyes and sight. All you see now is the shell. You lost the inferno, You lost that terrible claw, And though my bare fingers can still unbend an iron nail and stab a dragon’s heart I lost you.

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When I Get Old? when I get old? ha, you mean when I stop enjoying Elvis at windows shattering volume, when all I look for from morning to evening is for quiet and food and the pill it is the right time to take? when all I can look forward to is my yesterdays, those that I might still remember? when a woman’s naked body does not yield any response beyond an endless cough not dissimilar to the one when watching the morning bus beneath my window, when a woman’s naked leg makes me shiver with cold and her naked breast does not drive me into the raping state of mind of a cougar in heat? that’s when the last memory I will ever carry is the hiding nest of that Smith & Wesson and its unborn 9mm child I will father.

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Before Death Your words riding me into a coma. Your youth vibrant like surgical steel stretched atop a violin body, the only tool allowed to play its music the sharp ends of a lover’s teeth plucking tiny pieces of skin attached to living ends of nerves and pleasure. Your heels never touching the ground as you dance through life on tips of toes forever pirouetting around love’s center of gravity, forever gyrating around a sun held in your outstretched hand its lazy flames lambent upon your skin flickering around those tiny blue flowers kissing your elbows. wait a moment, in this universe this is a physical impossibility. So they say. Yet look inside my universe where truths are spoken only by unborn infants by heretics burnt on the stake and by suicidal poets. The melting marble in your breast The hidden smile in your protest, That stain of sky Inside your eye, My dawn... wherever lies your nest. Allow one day to paint your year One word to swim inside your tear If love’s the word Then lark’s the bird To seed its tunes inside your ear. Don’t close your eyes when suns invade The path you plowed across the glade And sunset glows Between your toes Asleep inside the green brocade. Just hang your clothes upon a branch Let fading grief your shoulders blanch Then like a swan Your beauty don While rhymes sublime your bleeding stanch. Watch sizzling dew upon your skin Entranced with dreams of scalding sin Inhale your sighs And kiss your thighs Along a trail of blister sheen. Then flare your nostrils... scent the breeze Regard those shapes among the trees The pale of white The soft of light The promise of dementing tease. You slide beneath the hugging leaves A crumbling star in silence grieves A glimmer marks Its dying sparks As burning dust through eyelids sieves. The soft of down the hard of steel They near your lair... they touch your heel They pull your hip They crush your lip A lover’s hands your candor steal. lover? who? lover... you?... caress... you whisper, I sink the chalice in the wind to pick a sleepy waft And let it curl around your toes, between, and fore, and aft, Then as my fingers follow suit like clumsy sunset thieves Your skin ignites and tiny sparks roll summers into leaves. skin? why? skin... my?... sweetness... you whisper, I sink my head inside the hive to pick a mouthful gold And pour the glow between your lips with ecstasy untold, And when your tongue lashes for more I call upon the swarm Unleashing in your gaping mouth a raging pollen storm. storm? how? storm... now?... love... you whisper, I sink my hands beneath the earth to grab its hot entrails The molten ore inside my fist drags seven flailing tails, You arch your back and shove your breast till nipples rape my palm, The fire which consumes your skin... your body’s only balm. fire? when? fire... who why how... again?... ecstasy... you whisper, I sink my body in that mine you lined with glowing coal Your nails the master’s scribing tool, my skin your bleeding scroll, We roll into the dragon’s mouth and thrash inside the gore Till splitting skies fall willing prey to passion’s sudden roar. passion? whence? passion... hence?... gentleness... you whisper, I sink your body in the milk decanted from a doe Then dress your wounds with fragrant moss asleep beneath the snow And as you rub into my cuts your mouth’s embalming sap My magic runes will curl your shape to sleep inside my lap. * You slept on your back, The tiny flame escaping your half open lips playing havoc on my mind, this cannot be human. I kept waving away the golden moths whose only ambition seemed to be to burn inside this flame, funny looking moths, indestructible, changing shape and color each time they buzzed through the tiny pyre, now they were gold, before they were yellow with green spots, before that blue and shaped like winged lizards... I neared my eyes, the air crisp and dry the more I approached, sudden pain... no... pleasure shooting through my eyelids as lashes caught fire and turned into thin bodied minuscule butterflies swimming inside my eyes, I swatted the moths away, they battled me as I approached my open mouth inhaling the flame into my lungs and my lungs turning ashes and my ashes turning poppy fields and the poppy fields turning liquor pouring into your flame sizzling, inebriating the moths and me defining the colors of my insanity and the threshing of my heart... I pulled back, panting. Waited a few moments then resumed my examination of your body, not yet further down than your nipples on my way to monumental discoveries and palpitating adventure... nipples asleep, smiling the way sleeping nipples do, cozily sunk in the unripe-apple sized mounds of flesh called breasts on humans... they should have been called love’s cornucopia of grapes on you. I touched the right nipple with the tip of my tongue, my mind set on tasting not on touching, it woke up, yawned, stretched rubbing teasingly against my lips as the left one started showing signs of life as well, they always seemed to act as a pair... then suddenly both pierced the air with a shriek stretching against the surrounding sunsets begging loudly to be cuddled inside my mouth or my palm dark red blood pumping and gurgling through them the smell of freshly baked bread and hot pouring chocolate and cinnamon and wild roses invading my nostrils, the room, the window panes fogging alongside with my eyes as they tasted in my mouth like strawberries then like cherries then like lumps of honey melting inside my throat into the sting of bees... Yes, I knew it was time to move on, much as I feared and more as I desired. I moved a moment’s distance away watching the wreckage caused by my aspiring want – the moths still stumbling drunkenly around the room’s corners, the thickly flavored fog rising and rolling around those mounds on your chest, your breathing undisturbed, serene, quiet... I moved on, past your white belly, lower, I stopped. I got up, froze time, and crashed through walls and cars and trees and mountains till I found that meadow and in the middle of the meadow the wild raspberries bunches of which I cupped in both hands rushing back through the mountains and the trees and the cars and the walls repairing all damage done in my wild surge, unfreezing time, your breathing undisturbed, serene, quiet... I moved on, past your white belly, lower, I stopped. Where have you been? you asked, breaking the magic. How do you know? I froze time, I answered, trying to restore the magic. You left that hole in the wall, my butt froze too, you answered, caring not for the magic. I pressed my open palm against your lower abdomen, the tips of my fingers just beneath your navel, the hollow of my palm crushing its life-line against the raspberry bunches and squashing them on your tense flesh till a sweet-sour smelling mush started oozing between the roots of my fingers, while the heel of my hand slowly started pushing against that mound of feminine delicate intricacies now about to break through the chain of modesty straight into the fabric of momentary timelessness... Your pelvis shot upwards, trying to reach my mouth, I gently pushed it back down fighting against tenacious resistance every inch of the way a hot throb enchasing cinders under my skin and working its way to the back of my hand through tendons and muscles and tiny bones, while hand, then fingers started moving downwards massaging the sticky sap into your need, and moans, and insides... I could not hold back your gale any longer, you broke through my defenses defeating the steel of my muscle and your fulminating intimacy crashed against my face offering my mouth your raspberries, your chalice, your forest wine. I don’t remember the scream or the song, mine or yours? as orbits changed and planets stuttered and a drunken perihelion dropped me into the sun to burn to never return. * I dressed, quietly. You watched me without interrupting me even once, your eyes clicking frames into your memory for later rummage and ransack and pain. I finished tying my shoes, zipped my suitcase shut, refusing to look at you afraid the shine in my eyes might blind you... It probably would not, it was reflecting only a single sixty watt light bulb. Then why did I see everything so blurred? “Is it the end of Elysium or the beginning of Hades?” you asked. “There is Lethe in between,” I answered, remembering mythology and refusing logic. “I prefer Hades. At least I know where I am. And I know it too well.” Pride, obstinacy, defiance. And that endless agony of getting a glimpse of that elusive Elysium. “Is it the end of... poetry?” you asked further, hesitating for the first time, and for the first time I could hear the knot in your throat. I kissed you with a passion I did not know I possessed, even at the preceding moments of abysmal mind and body abandon. “Never,” I answered, licking the blood from my lip and clicking the door shut on my life. * Before death, I fall asleep beneath a bench inside a fog of humid stench, the bats, the cats, the drunken rats, the buzzing clouds of flying gnats, one tender, sweet, enchanting wench, and stinking rye in broken vats. I puke, then roll away the rags and weakly hug my plastic bags, dead rhymes, lost chimes, forgotten times, confessions to a lover’s crimes, her beauty... suns eleven drags, my hazy mind a poet’s mimes. The dragon’s lair infests the worm, in blazing eyes decays the storm, the well a shell, the fearsome knell dons guileful guise of tinkling bell, adoring stars embrace her form, and welcomes me to sprawling hell.

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Musings If I be the reason For your cloud of season Then pull down the curtain No longer uncertain There’s skies to your eyes and no walls to my prison. Of passions decaying And memories slaying And bottoms of rivers Strewn hungering shivers I raved when I craved, at my yesterdays baying. Now moments forgotten And dreams misbegotten My mattress are lining Tomorrows confining To one single sheet of embracing white cotton.

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Sex Under the same cover one inch of desire in between empty, hungry, demanding, is it between our toes, hips? Your hair tickles my face no inches there. I can smell your skin you smell like apricots brandy, what will they invent next... blueberry fudge shampoo? I cannot smell your tooth paste though I try as almost imperceptible whiffs of another kind of smell test my nostrils, timidly still, gliding upwards from underneath the covers... I sense your thighs squeezing against each other... You turn on your side and your right breast falls on my upper arm the one inch dying a sudden zero death, I shiver. You want me. Pain. I hesitate moments before oblivion what do I prefer the miles long fall to the floor on the left side of my bed voraciously inviting me to a cold hard hell or the steel-hard nipple protesting my ignorance and cutting one long furrow into my right bicep? My mind is set. I start rolling leftwards towards the abyss when your hand shoots down beneath my navel catching the disoriented piece of straining flesh unable to hide its modest presence anymore and with one mighty shove you pull us both on top of you opening your thighs wide and guiding us to perdition inside that bubbling fountain of lust demanding me to release the Cerberus from its ageless chains... I let go, and the roaring howl of uncounted heads reverberate between the small room’s walls as our teeth clash and our fingers break and our bellies’ muscles tie seven Gordian knots around seventeen collapsing suns... * You fall asleep, finally sated, the one inch between us jealously guarding the persistent pungent odors slowly solidifying into a smothering cast of honey ribbons and yawning stars and crushed lilacs in bloom.

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One And now just up, and leave behind Those broken cogs inside your mind And kick to hell the frightened mice Beyond your green of pretty eyes You’re one of kind. You want a mane? I’ll lend you one To growl till cracks besiege the sun And with a claw finding its grip The hug of haze from brain to rip And roar like none. You want to find the bliss in sin? I’ll turn your hide to liquid skin Until the pain turns pleasure raw And passion paints your flesh aglow Your moans to glean. You want my pen? I’ll grant you two To dip inside your blend of hue, That secret mix of word and clay, Your song, your bark, your magic way, There’s none like you.

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