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The Letter B

of Alphabetical Order

La Baineuse

How can you lie there bathing
     in attitude of the swan’s neck
         diaphanous overlays artfully juxtaposed        
                rose       pink       peach
         and fairness overlaying all
      supple and strong and sensible to my gaze

     How can you lie there bathing
   cradled in steaming water
soothed by the cloth
ministering to your gently rising and falling places
     fluids and bars offering
         distilled scents of flowering fields
             as you stretch even as the swan’s neck stretches

           How can you lie there bathing
                   and bathe me so suddenly
                        in such subtle complexities
                            of appreciation
                        with time evaporating
                    and my tongue unequal to the task
               I must undertake

 

The Beautiful Singer 
           from Persephone

She sings: her song is lifted to the clouds
Light as a bird and graceful as a wing,
And I am but one face in upturned crowds
That stare and lose their breath to wondering.

She sings: her song, crystalline innocence,
Falls cool and transparent as mountain water,
And all those who listen refresh their hearts
At its clear pool, and bathe them in its pleasure.

She sings: and for a moment in her song
I think that she has meant its melody
For me . . .
                     . . . but the illusion is not long
To fade; with wounded rapture I can see —

   Her song is lifted from earth to the clouds
   And I am but one face in upturned crowds.

 

The Blood of Poetry

The blood of poetry would be desire
If poetry had blood, which it has not;
A poem may dance through history like fire,
But its fictitious flame is never hot.
A poem is a poet’s phantom lover
Whom he conjures to crush within his arms,
Hoping in its embrace he will discover
What life denies him a some real love’s charms.
By his creation unilateral
He hopes to teach himself how love is made;
Pray God he sees this is not right at all:
The maker by his making is betrayed
Unless he learns so he cannot forget
Love is an improvised human duet.

 

Business Opportunity

Dantevision/squirming damned
    pleading/yearning/turning on points of pain
    begging not for peace but for grace
Planthungry to bask in the smile of holy eyes

Heavy trading on the floor and in the galleries
     one hot rock for one less hot/Sit it down here!
     one vain shelter from raining fire for one less vain
Hold my severed head for me, will you/and on and on

On and on/one spectacular amputee
     hobblefollowed by another/evisceration?Commonplace
Music of Anguish hath its charms, but
     its dance occupies the eyes for a limited space

Attitudes are more entertaining
     the longing for the One Unpresent
     yearning for One Unspoken Word
     the Face/Adored Father/Immaculatum/Etc
Where do the damned get these ideas?

Who told them?/You?No/MeNeither
Is Jesus on the backs of their playing cards
  blessing/smiling/suffering little children
God, I’ve got the GREATEST brainstorm! Listen . . .

       BuddahMag/GodGallery/Wide Open Purity
       $.25 For a Peek of Hot Compassion $.25
            $1.50 sit all day and drool $1.50
   24HRS SIMULATED BLISS LIVE ON STAGE 24HRS
                                   (See it?)
   This place could be a goddamned gold mine

 

Business Suits

Envelope synthetic grey
population lower case
numerals in echelon
crowd around and tick away

We work a handshake by the book
screaming-eye-to-screaming-eye
bare teeth extend hook
knuckle to knuckle do it or die

stand where we would run away
shout down mute appeal
pursue viper down hole
eat every scrap of every meal

make another list to push
envelope synthetic blues
and sink into the time to come
deeper darker heavier hues.

The Letter C

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