Thursday, April 29, 2010

Love Poem to Allen Ginsberg

"O my Homunculus, I am ill,
I have taken a pill to kill the thin papery feeling"
Sylvia Plath

(breathlessly plunge ahead)
4am
You enter the hot dreamgrip pulled
amphetamine and plummet, a day's hate/love
making fabric stuff a protean seam
when 2 hours plus and the steam's still coming,

dream-real dream-time nub shaped
quick to justbrushed velvet static-cling
and your body there brine soaked all over
and drained dark pink to submission of lust-fat
and loving it as your I and I juxtaposed corporeal,

pale and wanton thrillful weight,
something unannounced, unplanned for,

bough of pressing shoulders claiming

more & more devourous bones

when tree-tight unstifled

moans your hisss & ohh -


back you flung to thread trunk eyes

where rhizomes sunk China-ward,

downpour oblivion still composing

the clutch & smack of slow possession-

flesh that reels a clamourous axe

of affect-clap and almighty cog-thread too late nic'd black;

too soon does dusk reverse to whetted morning
but your ears are roaring and mind is horne'd, foggy,
soppy where Never never landed sorely misshapen,


dharma fool, the feverish

pool of scene that you left

bolted wet, let head compartment snuff the light

inside the wicked myriad


-swift course to bribe the salient seas
you clung and found speed's eager phantasy
a lush and scaring over-friendly guest
you brined in bed.


awake

from terrors oversized

-shake dreams from your hair pretty child my sweet-

one dove, in spells of lingering, sighs

the weight of the world

in luuve

...


...


Saturday, April 10, 2010

To a Cancer (... not the usual one )

(sprightly, nonstop, and breathless)

festival brights
dark hours
push throats an
eyes o'er
edges fleet an
crookd o
lept sky bound
right into the
pocket of air
you made
a pillow ;

how lifelike 
then i
dreamt of
cobwebs swept
aside and rent
 to silk ,
left they
 the corner
thankful for
the scattered
time they hung
with you o scolded child-winter ;
beams caught the net aghast of light ,
the space between leaves ,
blood's forgotten host of pulses beating throng
to burst of colour,
thrill of song-
catch me fair
on ice i fall
when water's gone .

An ache-less chill ,
unbodied sight -
the roar of latent herbage;
and i a silver Isle
midst the dusty light of dawn

...