the impulse is to touch the heart;
just a gentle breathing
with a mist of poetry,
enough that if read to one’s self,
you would read it over again,
and maybe cry a little
to see the same beauty that I see in you.
Archive for May, 1992
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Untitled Poem #-19
Posted: May 20, 1992 in PoetryTags: Cloud, Clouds, Dreams, Light, Ocean, Sand, Sea, Sky, Spider, Stars, Time, Untitled, World
once upon a time I was a youth,
no corpse dream thing, tiny and small,
but I was as big as the world,
bright and unbuttoned like metal.
so anyways,
I bend and I breathe.
the sieve of my skin leaks the sand
of my cloud life;
strange clouds, odd clouds
for people far away on cliff tops
to comment on and guess shapes in,
to play drums into rhythms for.
clouds of youth dreams;
light pouring through in great angled falls
touches the ocean far below me.
in awe, I flood across the sky.
a spider slowly connects the dots of stars
to build constellations of ships
for wistful sailors of empty seas.
Imitations of Bunya no Asayasu
Posted: May 5, 1992 in PoetryTags: Breakfast, Divinyls, Touch, White
I
in a gust of wind the white man
on the autumn grass
lies still with a broken neck.
II
in the dust of mind the sight crew
on the bottom glass
matters like a token breakfast.
III
I don’t want
anybody else
when I think about you
I touch myself.
-Sample Courtesy of the Divynls
I
the wet skirt of a salt girl
looks a lot like
maybe, a fruit roll-up.
II
the salt girl
with the wet skirt
is Madonna.
I think of you always.
III
it is a pretty picture,
but now this salty girl,
whom you have thrown in the ocean
with your poetry,
must go change her clothes
and take a bath.
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