a galleon carved into history
by irises of Alexandrian lighting
sailed into my room today
on the dusky wine of feathers.
hit by a weightless anchor,
I swallowed the oceans of chairs
until beaching, next to the pebbles,
like the bent eyelash of womanhood.
then, my style found a mirror.
what stringent pace of procession!
look, see the even breathing,
extrapolating words from alphabets!
she cannot be shipped, beheaded
to dictate the marvel of human beauty
to the ululating waves,
to the brisk, base dolphins!
were thou a queen, a bee-Cleopatra
of disproportionate buzzing,
I would hide in your hive,
making honey of crowns and candelabras!
were thou a terrible king,
kingdom-chopping enemies of the head,
I would be your amateur insurrection,
the revolution that wants to fail!
let brevity encrypt, pow-thou:
throw at me your pillow-hair, the undulating
outlines of your softness, the whatever-kiss,
and I will sleep again, harpooned by the ancients.
11.10.98
(
geocities.com/soho/lofts) (
geocities.com/soho)