GABRIEL

I recognize the rosy mouth,
the soft limbs that yawn awake.
Love's nativity
soft as a sigh
from the next room,
bold as a dozen suns
beating in my heart.
Gabriel is in the shadow
of those suns,
Gabriel, son of nothing at all.

I lay down beside him,
three blue jays
fluttering in my belly.
I amuse him by withdrawing a dove
from between my thighs.
I hold a fresh apricot to his lips.

      Adam thirsted at the center of Eden.

A wayward angel
has covered my eyes with shiny pennies,
covered my ears
with small, soft hands.
I fall into the white noise of desire.
The suns are extinguished
one by one,
nova in my body-
but I feel only
the gentle lambs gathering
at my feet,
their pink lids rolling to sleep.

Gabriel carves hieroglyphs,
impossible interpretation
across my back.
Gabriel with heart of red enamel
and a Sahara mouth,
whose secrets swim upstream
inside of me.
 

THE FIRST SNOW

Perhaps I have always known
The pattern,
The permeation
Of frost.
How snowfall and suicide
Are immaculate
At the start.

Perhaps I have always known
The degree of slanted stars,
The musk of November
After the slaughter of deer.

This is the way
Love has tracked me.

Saturn's 23 moons
Of influence, spotlights
Beaming in the wilderness,
Adorning my lovers with halos
Until they were holy.

How dreaming lacks clarity.

This is the way
Love has tracked me.
 
 
 

DISSOLVE

We dissolve like light
In the portraits of Christ.

But with your seraphim face
And your arms tender
As Gabriel's
Cradling the wounded,
And your mouth
Soft as southern cotton,

How can I cleanse
My body of you?
 
 
 

OLD WORLD

Watching for hummingbirds
by the red salvia.
My thoughts
are straddling the ghost of you.

In deep summer
the heat
and open windows,
the newborn kittens crying
dissolve the world.

Whatever happens now
this story
will remain unfinished,
raw as a dream
culled from solitude.
 
 

LAS CRUCES

Indian sky.
The monarchs in your paintings
have gone south
and you are blue,
saddled with wild horses
and whispering.

Those three nights in Las Cruces
where my communion cross,
broken from its chain,
lay void
on the nightstand.

Willingly
I surrendered
all of my former voyages
to you.
 
 

ICARUS

It would've been easy
Once that season
To open my thighs
Like the night-blooming moonflower.
It was summer after all
And Eros had been to my door.

             He told me I'd never win.

I had seen your wings,
Bright indigo,
Folded unnaturally as you slept.
The moisture of newness,
Your face washed pale with albumen
Like one of
Michaelangelo's frescoes.
I had breathed the musk of sleep
In your hair
Every morning after.

          Icarus,
         It was said before you could speak
         You were already leaning towards the sun.

Later, it was your beloved
Who counted the scorched feathers
One by one.
 
 

SEPTEMBER

Sweetheart you know
    If I come back,
    If I meet you in the meadow
      Where the deer feed on wild grapes,
Where the honey bees
Are dormant in their drawers,
Where the bittersweet
Is just beginning to wind its way
   Over dry limbs and milkweed.
You know if I come back
   And you lift me up
    Like a rag doll, and you
      Kiss me like in the silents
And you tell me your plans
And you shove that arrow in my heart
I will never
   Get out alive.
 
 

UNDER STARS

September.
The wine is heavy with memory
         (Erinnerung)

The moon leans,
finished pale with old bones.
A violin lifts its voice
throughout the rooms
locked against the cold
and waiting for you.

Under stars
river stones
sink the heart.

Does the end
of the world remember, dear,
if we will burn together,
or if we will
burn apart?
 
 

BERLIN

Why do you walk these rooms
trying to sing my dreams
wayward.
Why do you softly
build plans against my hair,
hold me in alleyways,
suck back my words with your kiss.
Why do you carve joy deep
like delinquent hearts on a tree.
Why do you tattoo desire
beneath my clothes,
on my thighs and arms
like track marks?
 
 

AFTER DESIRE

The 7 veils are moth-eaten
After the end of desire
Strange animal
No more wanting
Exile

Peridae-poison mimic
Butterfly
The white noise
Of their wings
Is you

Remember the deer
Running westward
Against the gunfire

Remember you run deep
Remember
How love is so like sleep
When it takes
You under
 
 

LIKE EVE

      For J.

Someone was whispering

       Sweetheart, Cupid is dead

and we killed him.
I was asking
how do you kiss
and taste? Where
does your mind wander
when you're touching yourself
or a lover?
And do you dream
of wicked things?

      I love Jesus, immortal

and chaste,
and although
I am like Eve
in the blood ritual
and constant temptation
I would rather be
your very own
breathless whore.
 
 

OVERCOME

All day Mother
I encounter that one man
With eyes the color of jealousy
Who will not let me rest.
I try to run
But O, he is handsome,
Offering the gift of fertility
And winter fever.
He is patient
For a welcome sign from me.
His smile is slow
And sweet as warm caramel.
His lies are quick and painless.
He reaches
All of my darkest places.
I stand on my toes,
Press against him, drawn
Like the pull of the moon,
Emergency in my blood.

I think he is the one
You warned me about
When I was ten.

But you didn't mention
He would possess
The passion of Shakespeare
And the tongue
Of the Marquis de Sade.
One wrong move

And I am overcome.
 
 

BLACK WATER

Afterglow of angels
Cruising the ghetto.
White feathers on black water.
These end of the world objects
Are coming for us.

I stand in your doorway
Wanting to leave a scar.
Something indelible
As initials on white bark

I should've abandoned those hours,
But instead I'm climbing back
Like Jacqueline Kennedy
In the Lincoln convertible-
Searching for the missing parts,
For the necessary flesh and blood

That will make things whole.
 
 

HUNGER IN DECEMBER

Daylight and your touch
Is bleached out.
Do I have your hand in mine.
Do you pull me
From my familiar world.
Do you make tracks
With kisses
Across my back
Like a slow, southerly train.
Do you kneel to confess.
Do you caress my palm
Like a fortune teller.
Do you say there will be
A rainy afternoon
When I will lie beside a stranger
And let him touch me
In those places,
Let him match his heartbeat
With mine,
Let him breathe me, read me,
Taste me.
Do you bring bittersweet in November,
Hunger in December
And loose feathers in summer.
And do you do these things
With all
Of your heart and soul?
 
 

CARNATION

In Persia, when the world
was new, awakening
to obscenity and lust,
when the world
was awakening to you,
we were lovers.
And again in Judea
I cleaved to you.
You'll remember my touch,
the scent of lemons in my hair
when the day was through,
the taste of my old world skin.

In 1943 it was Christopher,
a young priest who'd listened
to all my scarlet confessions.
After midnight mass one Christmas Eve
I followed him back
to the hollow rectory.
In the foyer was the smell
of blown out wishes.
Blessed ornaments
stood at attention.
There was white magic
swept in from the snow-
a certain del encanto.

As a woman, sea-born
with pink sand in my soul
I could not help wanting to welcome
the Oceania inside those men.
But Sweetheart, I will tell you,
although I strayed,
although I kneeled for many gods
I always have
returned to you.
 
 

PSALM I
 

       It has been some time
       Since I took away
       A woman's perfume on my skin-
 
 

Give me the sign.
Lay down the mystery of desire
Like siesta-red stigmata
In the palm of my hand.
Pull me in
With your heaven-warm tongue
And strong arms.
C'mon Honey,
It's cold.
My heart is like a roller coaster
And I can hardly
Sit still.
 
 

HEARTBREAKER

Narcotic eyes split the tender
Parched cocoon.
In Hollywood
The women dream
A warm outcome.
The men study
An impossible translation.
Where does the time go.

And you, reluctant symbol,
Wild hybrid
Lost in the swelling
Of love shedding its skin.
Who loves you?

Every mouth, every mirror.
Even the partially formed hearts
Still in the womb.

Ache for you.
 
 

SKIN

Do you know how much
The feel
Of a lover's skin
Is missed when it's gone,
How mysterious touch can be.
How it pulls you in,
Forces you to seek its shelter,
Brings you to war torn rooms
Seeking it like Scarlett O'Hara
Stepping over wounded,
Dying and dead soldiers.

This is what the feel
Of a lover's skin can do.
Leaves you heartless,
Makes a starving animal out of you.
 
 

THE WOMEN AT THE FUNERAL

In your big city
I think of Death
Emerging from the shadows
To make love to you.
I dream of seeing
A stranger in your coffin,
A beautiful, exotic animal,
Pale and sculpted as statuary.
I think of the dusky
Perfumed women
Weeping by your casket-
All of the painted women
Who loved you
Crossing their fingers and legs
In memory of you.
I will be one of those women
Who comes to put a shiny penny
On your tongue for safe passage.
I will whisper
What the cardinal's hundred songs relay.
I will rub your cold skin
Until a spark forms.
I will refuse the gods
Their evergreen star.
I will place a finger to your lips
And say Hush-
We have already
Said too much.
 
 

FINISHED WITH YOUR VOODOO

In my dreams
I have killed the little boy in you.
I have bled the tiny frame
That is fearless
In the big bad world.

As though I have cursed you
With wanting
You tell me with suspicion
Of your wet dream.

But Sweetheart
I am finished with your
Fear of temptation
And your coward soul.
I am finished with your voodoo
And Sweetheart
I am finished with you.
 
 

B MOVIE

I slide in
carrying muddy heels
from hitch hiking 6 miles into town.
It's still early
at the empty and smokeless
Algiers Inn.
I order the only drink
I can translate from french.
There's a man on his hands and knees
scrubbing the harlequin floor.
He looks up and winks at me.
The barkeep drops me the drink
coupled with a key to Room 13.
Xavier Cugat melody in the elevator.
I fall into the room
where a blonde, naked man
lies dreaming
in the body temperature heat.
I crawl in beside him,
my head against his chest,
listening to the percussion
of his foreign heartbeat.

I'm ready for anything.
 
 

OBITUARY
 
 

            Now the morning dew
             Drops a tiara in her hair
              Where she lays
                Under the bright
                  Graveyard apples.
                   They fall precisely around her
                     Like a magician's daggers.

Now the dreams
 Full of sex and chocolate
  And velvet rooms
    Are chalk drawings
     In the rain.
      Now the men
       Who filled her
         And warmed her
          Temporarily
            Sigh in the June air
              And move on.
 
 

OF DESIRE

      "The whole business of eroticism is to strike
        To the inmost core of the living being,
        So that the heart stands still."
                      -George Bataille
 

Deep is the fever and sunset burns
Of Red Riding Hood,
Her delicate shadow weaving
Through sky high trees
In the wood,
Straight to the watering mouth
Of desire.
Soft strategy spread through her
Like wine.
Close company in the warm cottage,
Saved only be a hair's breadth.

             These wolves know so little

Of continuity, of the heart
Standing still
In a lover's transparent world.
They use the sword
Of eroticism
To stave off
The reminder of death.
 
 

THAT PART OF YOU

Half-dumb with expectation
I want to touch that part of you
That wanders the strip for peep shows,
Spies the blonde, brunette,
The redhead, all the same girl
With different wigs
And outfits.

As a blonde I am soft,
Wear gingham and turquoise,
Cowgirl clothes.
I come from farm country,
The Tornado Belt-
Used to finding shelter.

Brunette I am hard boiled
With a severe smile,
Manhattan born and bred.
My diamonds are bright
As the winking signs
Of Times Square.
I make you work for my kisses.

As a redhead
I'm sweet as gingerbread,
developed in a small town
In the south of France.
Worked as an erotic dancer
At a place called La Rouge.
Once you've danced
It stays in your blood.

I want to touch that part of you
Where desire makes you hard,
Makes you crash head on
Like a bird
Who sees the reflection of the sky
In a bare window.
 
 

CRUSH

In a Fall bright meadow
Where milkweed has begun to fray
And blows like stars
Across the landscape
I am telling you a dream
Where I heard the wind sing
Through your ribcage
Where a heart should've been.
You were parched as a scarecrow,
Perfectly dark and hollow
With no idea
How to love
Or spend your desire.
Every Autumn star
Was bearing down
And setting bloody fire.
 
 

FRIDAY THE 13th

Something in your smile
Woke the stranger
In me
And suddenly I was
A harlot
Holding out a hand,
Starved for love.
 
 

GIRL FROM VENUS

I am the girl from Venus
with a mercury dress.
Like Kissy Suzuki
and Pussy Galore
I slide past trouble
like an oiled gumball.
The tattoo on my breast
reads: OUT OF THIS WORLD.
I swallow men like alphabet soup.
I make splinters of the wild West.
I am the girl from Venus
with a mercury dress.
 
 

TRAGEDY AND CHASTITY

I am waiting by the river
    Thinking of tragedy and chastity
       And all the rules of Heaven.
 

Do not show me your face
    Or let me feel
      The compass of your arms.
 

I do not want to know them
   When they are gone.
 
 

THE ROMANTIC & THE DAMNED

In the underground bar
With an El Greco atmosphere
Someone flashed your picture at me,
Asked if I had seen you.
 

               The last time I saw you
               I had a rose between my teeth
               And danced circles
               Around a sombrero.
               You were sleep-walking South.
               "Honey," I said, "do you think
                If we put our hands together
                We'd have a prayer?"

The last time I saw you
I was an extra
In The Romantic & The Damned.

You said the sun
Was an Aztec god,
That the full moon is either
Nine months late
Or too soon,
That every portrait of Christ
Hangs from a nail.

But I said only
That I'd never seen your face before,
Had no idea
Who you were.

II.

When I feel like kissing you
I light a cigarette
And blow smoke rings.
The room is filled with O's.
Desire is all fiction and ghosts.

III.

Lying down in the sweet grass,
  I am as young as a raindrop
   And as old
    As Cleopatra's bones.

And the children
 Rolling down the green hillside
   Like the tide going out,
     Their laughter bird-like
       In the open air,
         Are manna for the soul.

I can only sigh
When I think of you
Sitting in the half-light
Of pre-dawn
With a second hand needle
Sinking in your arm.
 
 

WRESTLING DESIRE

It was your face, came from some past life
    Where you were a suave minister
      Handling snakes on Saturday nights
        And I was the town whore.
Secretly you wanted me,
 Dreamed of sliding those serpents
    Between my thighs
     To see if I would suffer
       Or be lit with ecstasy.
 

When you look at me
Is she ready to dive, does she
Swallow you in her smile?
 

All morning I lay awake
Thinking of those 40 Proof confessions,
Touching my mouth
And wanting you there.

It was your face, until you spoke
That blew around me
From out of nowhere,
Settling like snow
In my brain.
 

"Men cannot stop," you said.
So, how deep are you willing to go?
This is a foreign country-
Need a passport, good reason to visit,
Friends waiting when you arrive.
Without directions
Could get messy.
 
 

                   Sex is cryology.
                   Sex is a stray cat
                   Looking for a home.
                   Sex is everything
                   You've ever read.
                   Sex is high,
                   White noise,
                   Kite caught in the branches.
                   Sex is alleyways,
                   Dark corners.
                   Sex is snow trying
                   To stay whole in June.
 

Everything I touched last night
And this morning was tender.
My own skin.
Fractals of you.

                  Why don't you say it?

1. Warm your hands as if preparing to sculpt.
2. Place your hand above the left breast to feel the heart.
3. Remember it's there.
4. With both hands feel the curve of my hips, down to my thighs.
5. Two ways you can go from here.
 

It was the first time I saw you
In that February attic,
Which proved how I could
Wrestle with desire all night
And never win.

          I just wanted to look.

Did I cut too deep,
Does it hurt?

        Yes, it hurts.

Did I press too hard,
Do you want me to stop?

      Keep going.

We all have that fear in the dark
At times that we don't exist.
That we have finally become
A little swirl of dust
In the vast universe.
 

I want to be everything,
To be everywhere.
You've read me, you should know.
But what's real and what's bullshit?
Am I faithful
Or do I
Open up for anyone?
 

         A fortune teller once told me
           I was a nun in my past life.
            I'd first become one after my lover
             Was lanced through the heart and killed.
               I vowed never to love another, she said.
                I was a nun four times & a priest in France once.
                  Then she leaned over and said:
                    "There's no need to be celibate in this lifetime."
 

If you stare at a flower
It will never bloom.
If you stare at the moon
You will go mad.
If you come for me
I'll write about you
And everyone who reads it will know-
So, tell me, what part of you
Don't you want me
To turn into prose?
 

Sentimental- sordid- Sweet stuff.
Sweetheart I want to

Tell you

Like honey
Dripping

That you are beautiful,
That when we stand close
I feel that pull,
Those butterflies urgent for freedom.
And talking to you
Is like dancing, on and on
When all I want is to stop
And taste you.

Passion trips me.
 

Do I press too hard,
Do you want me
To stop?
 
 

WHAT LOVE STORY DOESN'T END IN HELL,
OR IN A WHOREHOUSE?

If you say so, Sweetheart.
If you say I used Voodoo
and Santeria,
Black magic and Macambo.
If you say I buried
an apple in your path,
that I slipped blood
into your wine.
If you say I burned a photo of you
under a full moon,
that I cut a piece of your hair
as you slept.
If you say I made you dream of me
every night for a year.
Then Sweetheart I must say
you're a crazy
Motherfucker.
 

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