Love Poems

Das Boot

(1995)

And to this ring I cling
liferaft/lifeboat/lifering
ring reign
drowning rain, sea swelling
with this ring, I thee cleave
ringing of the axe, steel gleam sound
severed timber to thee I cling
ship to shore
message
Drowning still, I'm drowning
Drowned ring
ring swings
wave. wave.
my ring
my wooden ring
Another wave
the ring upon your hand
another wave overhead
another wave goodbye

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Before the Bar

(1995)

I felt like a Catandtonic
but can't remember what goes into `em
Is it ginger
or vinegar
or H-two-S-Oh-four?
Do I add ice
or is it self chilled?
I remember when last I put my
lips
against that smooth glass
tasted the mirrors and shadows,
draught sweat,
Just a hint of lime.
There's light, luck and sprinkled sugar, I'm sure,
and it'll come to me,
the rest of it will.
Soon I won't be haunting the bar,
I'll be back,
spilling it on your skirt.

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Saint Judas

(1995)

Although his father won't approve
Last night I kissed Jesus Christ
We were drunk on Red Wine
Drunk on miracles
And stumbled beside the Galilee
happy like guppies

He likes my air of tragedy
he wants to make me happy
A finger pressed to seal it
seal it with silence and salt sea air.

When those rough disciples ask
"Did you kiss the man?"
I shall have to say, "Yes,
Twice."

This morning I've dressed like a Nazi
And I just kissed a Jew.

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The Last Collection

(1992)

In the field where I lost the ring

I gave you
You gave me
Whatever

I stood today in summer
And thought of the rain misting down
soaking the grass, the benches,

my hand

outflung to gesture or injure, I'm sure
And I heard the gleam as our ring flew
A silver halo in mist. and then dropped away

just there

where, today, in oppressive heat,
I saw a blur of gold
the blur
of a bee
And by him, another. And more
bending every flower around me,
there they were
I carefully made my way from the field
dizzy
from the sun.

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Snow White

(1992)

That Black Hair
those ruby lips and ruby bow enframed and pale,
pale as water flesh -
enrapture-
ribbons of lust hanging on,
princeling
for to dream
panic lips-
crazy small hands
-blue suits

passion.

Kiss me ere I die.

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Man from the Granite State

(1994)

Every granite morning
every slate-grey day
every blue-black evening
Ah prowl around the walls
Ah'm lookin' to get in
Ah'm peekin in the windows
grinnin' and slowly lopin' past
leaden thunderin' mountain clouds
threatenin' mah very life
but Ah don't care
Ah push on
punch on
gunna climb those castle walls
gunna climb those castle walls
hold close mah brother stones
cling tight that common ground
kick the windows in
crush the bar that binds
smash those blockin rocks

Then that hair come hanging down...
She let it down
Ah climb higher on the ladder of desire
pullin mah hand over hand way
up and up and up and up
Ah mount her blessed sill
And Ah'm grinnin' mad with
the rich thought of hanging
over her window ledge
Grinn and Hooowlll
And hunch mah broken back
And touch her broken stones
and clutch that golden hair
hair full and flowin'
makin' a frame and breakin' mah
mind breakin mah stony heart down

let it flash and rumble
let the stone tops crumble
Ah don't care
Ah don't care
ain't felt nothin'
since the day they chiseled mah brain
but now a bright blue crystal
is steeped in black desire
and ah'm comin' up to find it
ah'm comin', climbin' higher
seen that hair flow down
flowin' down and drownin'
flowin' down and drownin'
steeping me in bright gold sea.

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Struck like a Bell

(1994)

Standing there in shadows,
Coat dragging raindrops from the sky
and hair dripping water like a willow,
I could stand just for the night...
or I could be standing just to stand.

Wet, smiling under neon
just because I knew the world should end...
remembering your tide
I could close my eyes,
And I could close them again.

Drip sweet words
sugar to my lips
drown me in fast cold bursts...
my mouth would open up,
and I would open it again.

Cold pours down, a penance
bright eyes melting behind shades.
Listen,
I've something to tell you
And I want to tell you again.

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On this Shelf

(1994)

I have two lovely dollies
sitting up there on shelf
One I wind with a Street-three-key
One, well, she winds herself.

(When first I had a dolly-mine
I thought my heart would stop
But it didn't then, no, it did not
though that dolly was soon lost.)

The large dolly is a dilly
A regular Can't-knock-shop
it's big sometimes and small sometimes
and smells of homespun cloth.

My other dolly, heavens,
I really cannot say
she rides so precious, so enter-faining
that I'm afraid whene'er we play.

Dolly silly dangle dogger
Fix and nix and potterby snoot
Crisp and sniggle kunst-a-keffle
Azerbanifellty cute!

These dollies dress me up
they present me to their tea
They stalk and talk and carefully walk
Around the shadow-sweat sea.

Another day my darlings
might lay there unsuspended
the joy wolfs me watching
the smiles break free unmended.

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Whither Louisiana

(1992)

Our little time in the grass together
my sweet
the clouds mounted anvil grey
higher than I could think to touch
Not just shyness
held me down in the rich damp grass
the blue sky backdrop had a weight
it had to
to hold up those stony clouds.
You couldn't know it then
with spring scenting gentle winds
but our love
I let lie between us
comforting as a blanket
and let it lie there still
as there it looked so good.
I couldn't kiss you then;
I cannot kiss you now.
You're gone.
I'm gone.
Outlines on the hill.

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Trenches

(1992)

Shit, it's there now
worked into the wood
twisted around every leg
As I labored

poured my softly wet
sweat into the warp
and weft of it

under the swinging arc lamp
I must have wandered
and poured more than just varnish
carved deeper than I had simply planned.
An artist who thought he was mere craftsman,
I found
My creations took a shining,
they breathed, it seemed
My creations looked of me
and I, dread with the thought,

cursed and raged and tore;
set fire, fled, and vowed

to never touch my tools.
Until, again,
the flesh was willing and the spirit weak
and I began my work with this one,
this one different,

this one perfect,

this one creation that would not be mine.

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Briefly, then, Ten Women

(1995)

Dark Smilecat against the snow.
Swings in season, goes in swinging.
Fumbling for glasses, Six AM.
Sweetcrazy, Eve in grass and gin.
Soft glass, stained bitter.
The humming voice of comfort, hot showers predicted.
Flames, melting me away.
Rumblemotion dreamchanger.
Gunmetal smell of summer.
Sweat and ghosts, a sillhouette.

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Cock-a-doodle-doo

(1995)

I awoke this morning, angry at the sheets
angry at the morning, angry at you
and you, passionate still, tried smoothing
but I'd have none of it, grudgebearing.
Sleep is no drug for the likes of me
It offers no solace, only tedium
and I avoid its tenderness like I avoid
the tattoos of incandescent iron icons.
Must I atrophy all night? Must
my mouth be washed in sand?
I am drowned in this empire of night
drowned in oceans I'd prefer not to swim.
And thou, thou innocent,
you'd wake me with a kiss?
Take it back
before I teach your face new smiles.

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Safe Spelling

(1995)

I know every tiny trace of you
You overborn word of poets
and other manglers.
Word in Four Letters,
of which, three
are cozy and chummy
real vox pops.
Hanging out and sounding cool, baby
to those that have ears
and let them hear.
But I, who scribble,
and still caress the page
have my favorite,
in the silent one
the lone, little
Jealous `e'.

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Okay, right Jack

(1992)

Okay, right Jack, I mean, that's what I said
you can't expect things to go on and on.
You see, Jack, well, it doesn't mean much;
still, things just wouldn't be the same.
There's a girl, Jack, this girl I know
and she, last week, lost her head in a bar.
Started screaming, Jack, about how it happened
about how we didn't care what happened.
So anyway, Jack, I thought you'd like to know
I just thought you'd realize.

Actually, Jack, it wasn't a bar
it was just a room for a friend.
Still and all, Jack, here's the thing
we couldn't really catch her flow.
So the things, Jack, the things that matter
they'll always be the same and so,

I don't know, Jack, but sometimes
but sometimes I look at you, you know
and Jack, Jack, there's this guy
there's a guy that lives real close to me
and he can do us, Jack, for nothing he will
take us outside and loosen our belts.
Okay, Jack? I mean
Only if it's okay with you.

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Cold Remembrance

(1992)

At last he went to her again
and she rushed up to meet him
then drifted back without touching
his boots at all

When she moved towards him again
she kept a little more distance
but that was just her nature
Just as it was to sigh
She sighed
He spoke against her
cold tears and explained
She sighed

There, in his chest, something fell
he paused and frowned
then put his hand between his ribs
and drew it out

Before, that time in the rain
Stinging peltasts coldly ringing them
and rushing the small bodies huddled
under their black flag into a melt,
She had watched them.
She had sighed,
parted the veil of air,
smiled on the smoldering black
then dartingly left behind
an iris on the sand
which he wore in his dark lapel
when the girl took him home.

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Listen

(1992)

If you like me you'll
Do me a snake curl

a cat stretch

and for kicks
we'll set up

a ring of mirrors

we'll

send up flares

you can stop if you want

but I'll play for you Ironman

Aquaman, too.

and because I want to

I'll detonate a rock in your honor.

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While Jeff Sleeps

(1992)

I have nothing to write about today
no hopeful thoughts of release
no fragrant metaphors of jealousy
nothing disturbs my tied-down tired mind
the scrape and click of the dryer
only lulls me but
I'm not interested in dying today
morbid tears won't fall this afternoon
love no longer drums at the door
either
although this morning I had quite an attack
no
and I'm not into knowing how the day
will go in this dessication town
there's just this cat
little cat springs expanding crazily within him
as he jumps
he slept on my chest last night
and I didn't explode
that's a good thought
perhaps it's a good thing
cats growl when they're happy
I don't
(once, she purred,
and my smile should have been outlawed)
I growl, I'm told, when I sleep
but that just isn't the same
although I'd like to sleep now
and suppose I'd be happy if I could
but you can't write about sleep
or anything, really
when you're craving it
because if you're writing
then you're not questing
you're thinking about the quest
and the little things you'll lose
so still
I've really got to go now
and get some rest
I'm cranky when I'm tired
and there's no need for you to see that.

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Wolf Boy

(1992)

This is my window story
roller skates
and cat smiles
me panting
red sweat white tan
no silver stripped down
I'd been running
barking and howling
loving the moon
I'd been loving.
Then in the dark
a darker
and then white,
the promised cat,
and I knew,
without smelling even
my thudding heart
my rigid limbs
poised to run
posed to leap
devour desire,
I knew I had put on a show
I loped the distance
in an instant
warm greetings
half laughing
and touching, waiting
and then
there's the window,
and wooden block
to get up with.
no silver on my neck
as I climb,
silver on my back.
a seal, a blessing
crossing the sill.
I loved
I howled
I loved.

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Talking

(1992)

Welcome to the Wall
slap it hard, feel her up
they don't make them like this
no they don't
this sort of thing has got to be born,
conceived between us;
as I want to let you in me
and you've got a weepy wet
query hanging over my lips.
But hey, we made a Wall instead.
The more I try to show you the other side
the thicker it gets.

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Sister

(1992)

She keeps the smile under the cot;
that cat-grin hardly ever escapes.
but sometimes it slips
out under her habit
and I have to look
to my rosary
or I'll scream, forgive me Lord.

Her mind is like quick silver
hotly poured over the backs
of heretic's legs and
she eats through the Bible
and burns through the Kabal.
That mind knows me, my Lord
She shows it in that smile.

At any moment she might turn
and wide eyes will hold me down.
All I want is in those eyes
behind my secret prayers.
She lets me know she could smile, Jesus.
It's enough to drive me mad.

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The Philosopher's Stone

(1992)

Quidquid est and quod non potes my stock in trade
I take a stinging glance at the vale that now surrounds us
The rational justification for our neatest generalization
is but simple putty in my well worked mind. I can logically deposit
any post hoc set of datum and repeat it all again in three part rhyme
there's no paradox before me that doesn't quack with grief
as I slice along its throat with Ockham's knife. Or any niggling
little teaser that can't be put behind when I slip my boot
out solipsism's door. The enthymemic mistress to every passing thought
is Creo quia absurdum est. I'm invulnerably invincible and utterly undoable, I...

I got hoit.

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Lamia

(1992)
There's a purple behind her green eyes
and it gnaws his knuckles to pulp

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A Visit on Sunday

(1992)

There's linoleum down there
it's got squares
yes it does and
the crack that breaks is almost unavoidable
but anyway
it's there and white
with little gold bits floating
colliding with the grey rocks
and smashing to tan slivers that drift
toward the crack that breaks
which goes right down and then
to the right and then
again
under my shoes and behind, probably.

Outside, yeah, out there, is
my sister with the scissors
and she's still cutting little men
because that's what
she does to them
and I couldn't stop her
so I'm not bothered
and I couldn't stop her
so I'm not one of them anyway
she can keep it up forever
if she wants to
out there in the grass
if she ever talks to me I'll tell her
she can keep it up forever
but I'll tell her
you cut them a little thin.

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At the Party

(1992)

Then there was the time
that Venus bitch
was at the party.
Slinkin about with
her blondeblackredbrown hair
and twining her hand around
everyone's drink
(And I do mean everyone,
she came in with
Sappho, heh-heh.)
And when someone put on a Doors tape
the lights flashed down
She made herself known
and that I mean
in the Pagan sense
"Look at those slimhips,"
I drooled to Mars
He sucked in a cube
"Yeah, so firm and full."
I cocked my eyes a-sideways
"And those lips," me
thinking of pneumatics
and golf balls
"Yeah, thin crisp leaves,"
and he slung
that hammer in a corner
and lay down in her lap
The fool, I smacked
but too late for him
she let her fingers walk
and there were
cold stars dancing
sliding in chaste tango
across his babybare face
finally shaved, you see
and surprise
no scars
But anyway
(No battle nicks,
not yet, heh-heh)
she was all over him
working his skin like she
was melting frost
off a chariot's silver sides
You could see, though
wherever she touched
his face froze to mask
which was good, I guess
cause he could hide behind it then
and pretend
he didn't wanna nail her.

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Lesson 11

(1992)

It will go better
if your partner is relaxed,
so some strong wine
or gentle background music
is suggested
Slice along the inner thigh
blood will tumble out
Catch it on your tongue,
moving left,
then slide back right,
wedging apart the skin
until you taste meat
Two horizontal slashes now,
marking the ends of your slice
Quick clamp your mouth on each
Now peel
Use the knife, if necessary,
to trim back any fat
Hold firmly to the top of the thigh
insert your free hand
and widen the incision
Pull, pull down and around
(ignore the blood for now)
pull up and around and off
And there
you have it

a wedding band.

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Tomorrow

(1992)

Last night I vibrated
until you appeared
and placed my hand upon your chest
it thrummed
so hard I thought my arm would fall off
and my shirt explode
but I guess that would only happen
if I never let go

Last night I fell
out of the world
Fell through the hole on the mountain
It was, well,
strange you could say
and not the best of times
but I guess you can only feel pain
if the sky's above you

Last night I drank
a teaspoon of cleverness,
cursed, and beat the vain dogs from my heels
then let loose
with my sword and arrows,
the ones that you made
but I guess the stars only cry
if someone breaks their toys

Last night I hung
ten thousand men
hung them at the bottom of the sea
I couldn't, you know
help myself
there was something in the water
but I guess you're only insane
if they can't find all the bodies

Last night I wept
cold tears in rage
I cried for all the little things gone lost
I hiccoughed, and
then, wryly smiled
I was dreaming of a picnic lunch
but I guess you'd only make it
if you knew that I'd be gone.

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OK Freeze Mother

(1992)

Just put it down

Put it down

and no one gets hurt
Nice and easy
Just there
We don't want any trouble
So just
put it down
Put
the phone
down
and we can all go home.

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Winter Cleaning

(1992)

I don't know how to say this, sis
but you've faded.
I thought it was just dust;
aged weight and time yellowing
your walls,
obscuring the birds.
So I hauled out a glass bucket and filled it,
salty hot water and bleach,
to make the shine come clear again
scrub you down
with my end heavy, over-used mop
though it's none too clean itself.

But you've faded.
You're fading still.
Not a weight, not a scarring
not a film building on my eyes.
No, no. No, no.
It's loss and lack
and missed opportunity
and it's your substance
and the way things are
and the prison bars
and an insidious laugh.
My eyes, you see,
are Radio Waves.
I'm pushing out your particles,
stripping you,
not with acid cleanser and mop
but just by noticing
your faded walls.
You're faded.
Walls.

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The Fall

(1992)

We were walking,
you and me and her.
alone, finally;
not even air between us
three.
we were looking
for a talisman;
something to keep the others out,
something to keep us three together.
i loved the play of shadows
on the cold cliff walls;
you loved to play
and carried her on your shoulders
over all the crags,
past all the little caves.
when you fell back
six feet,
dust caught in your hair.
so you cut it all off.
i remember that:
the grey dust,
the blonde curls.
drifting against the black sky.

you could paint cartwheels.
she could sing full valleys.
and i wanted
more than life
to give you both
something i had found on my own.
anything.
so i went off,
got us all lost,
but at a calm point,
i saw it.
busy kissing her,
you didn't.
i knelt and found
a mirror,
of all things,
a looking glass.
captured flat,
with no one else
in there,
was me. behind
there were the mountains
and the shadows arced,
vaulted, over my shoulders.
that's what i found
and i couldn't turn to tell you even.

i'm sorry, but
i slowed there
with the staring
and lost the motion
you two had given me together.
all your gambols, though,
and the laws of force,
of attraction,
made you drift apart.
i should have roped you in,
showed you how to move together,
but couldn't break my gaze,
i swear.

Let's Get Off The Moon,
you screamed at last
but sound doesn't carry
where there is no air.

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Back to Behemoth...or back to The Castle.

Poetry 1992-1996 Mark Anthony Masterson

Those who write can drop a line to misterdark@mail.oocities.com