Faceless Bidder

 

She had a mouth constructed for laughter:
Upper dais slightly oblong, ill-fitting
Curve to sister’d step. And what of the black
Nestled within? Barbs stolen from the rose bush—
Edge’s wit mustn’t meld
Amongst company so colored.

She had a mouth constructed for laughter, and perhaps
It had done so once.
But the years had made it small;
She wore now a smile arranged
Only in self-contempt.
The real thing she sold
In the marketplace outside a dream.

 

Some elements of the prose loosely lifted from previous work.

Vacancy

 

Even the white of the dying sun
Avoids my bedroom window,
Another Sunday afternoon
Dissolved within a rectangle eight by ten.
The neighbors passed
Away overseas. I saw
The ship’s shadow cast off,
Left beneath a front door
No one thought to disembark: blank, handwritten,
Like the intention of their goodbyes.
I miss their casual violence, the staccato
Of youth unrealized, each cry
Transmuted to fill the hole above my head.
Perhaps I shall visit them, follow starstiched
The longitudes of our deceit.

 

Quartered Renaissance

 

Companionship’s kiss left all alone
With blindness—
Befriended so long
Thoughts subtle-shaded rose all in black.

Mythological age passed but unsown,
Grown spineless—
Mortals so mere
False-bidden flung on div-ine track.

Thus king ignoble sat on the throne
Pate crownless—
Judgement so daft
Satanic refusal broke deviled back.

So gilded god arrived much postponed
Faith boundless—
Purpose so straight
From side unseen slipped last attack.

Erasure (Revised)

 

Stay a month longer, Jin-dynastied sun…
Too eager you signed unfounding breath.
Greeting came carcass-gifted,
Calamitous cause leaves unsaid?

Enlighten then your parapeted subjects:
Sixty-thousand they stand, suicide-shawled.
Where erred veneration,
When fell celebration?
The horsed horde at our gates know not love
(Their language lacks the rhyme).

At those hands 
Are we to be skull-split,
Rent from family and form,
Rent for silver and sex?

False prophet!
It cannot be!
And so.

Your claims I disavow, your shapes I abnegate.
To my disciples I say only

                 Jump

Adopt, in final moment,
The butterfly’s art.

 

 

I often (re)write poems. A dramatized re-telling of the original.

Unwound

 

Hold steadfast First feeling;
Allow not second-rate puppeteer
Memory’s mastery.
Capture, once more, the cannonball 
Crack of her laughter, in yellow twinkle-toed
Like that jacket you lost, and the mango sorbet
Still stuck beneath her tongue.
Do you remember Last night
In the foreign field of our home,
Where sylvan stars gave birth,
Again and again?
A theater of billions
For a tragedy of two.

 

Cheerfully Lost

 

The city golden loathes all maps,
Owing existence eternal
To that certain peculiarity of geographical magic:
It cannot be found—
And once found cannot be left. If ever
You find your feet upon its sand,
Stay a lifetime longer; listen evermore
To Celebration’s glass sound, morning lightness;
Marvel until tomorrow’d tomorrow at triplet guardians,
Horizon-erasing waterfalls of stone and lavender marble.
Paradise asks
Only that you forget.
There are no visitors in El-Fasaan:
Its language lacks the word.

Misunderstood

 

She spoke
Between the little spaces of their ambition,
Voice unwanted, undeserved,
As sunlight snatched from sketched-on-black winterday:
Valorous not in victory,
But ceaseless action against defeat divinely-destined.
Repent, else descends that endless night?
Faithless threat—
Let it come. And when, kindling-crushed she sleeps
Within destitute maw,
Swallow and taste naught
But the vast limbs of your words,
For judgment was never yours to hold:
Long ago she escaped, already to the moon.