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Your words
between cement&
sympathy
chunks of private
ceremonies
ikebana for roses
bitter tea
in dirty glasses
breaking through
corrosive bands of salt
dissolving hardened parts
fusing intestines formaldehyde
vapors of tears
drum rolls in your belly
slow tar beats
on sticky practice pads
to shut out neighbor's screams
the world sky oozing meadows
leaking from the side of your mouth
dry as violin resin
flaking away
the lips of your vagina
speech less cracked& dry
salt bands of colorless brick
the mortician standing by;
she has been probing
the silence between your legs,
your fame precedes
you to this place
your famous words
flinging themselves
into nights
of drum rolls
seamless as the petals
of crushed frangipani
your skin stretched
over the stove of your body
I put a lamp inside
to keep you warm
to shine into the pale horrors of the world
the dry skin stretched over frames
lit from within
hanging in the sun to dry
your proteins still puddled
on the gurney the guilt
still dripping from her fingers
her eyes of frightened jellyfish
as I lean over
& bite your toe off
below the purple tag
and taste the sweet salty
tears hiding from probings
into your useless body cavities
& tie it within the sash
around my waste
to hurry home
to practice what you taught me
about the timpani of trees
while your toes fucked me in the tall leaves
I pressed into blades of cement meadowgrass
until quitting time
and hurried
home to find you there with a new work
in one hand humming the second violins
the other stirring my insides into swirls
of Clara Schumann muffins your breath
fumes bread-ethanol tongue rolls in
imitation of oysters we will later funnel
into each others mouths through
leaking fingers stoppered with
your slow-toed teasing
"later, patches, go stir
your kettles. boil my blood
into cloud gathers"
watching from the studio as my chain kettles
affirm the meanings in second violins
sustaining them offering them violincellos,
then cellos then tremolos rising falling woman
shading the clouds rolling overhead firming
tossing boiling into full arpeggios with the
muted end of tomorrow night's performance
your hums muting into words over felt covers
that you insert into my body in eighth notes
against my quarters sixteenths against eighths
thirty-seconds sixty-fourths tumbling into polished
black stones of coda swirling on the end
of my favorite felt-core rollerball
resolving
your form your tears
your oysters
leaking from my eyes
your name under
a fluorescent smear
of last night's appetizers
her thumbprint whorled
in oyster dust her caught eyes
following the trail of sash
over blood lines leaking
from the corner of my lips,
her smile in rubber smock
as I sign for
your effects,
my fingers wet with the pale rose
oils of you, smearing stains of you
across the rising heat in buds of silk
(the back of your hand
brushing…
slipping my business card
between her oyster-wet
fingers smelling of you
shedding the last
tears onto the tile floor
my smile leaking
your tears your
inviolability
to hurry home
to feel your rising hum
your bread your oyster
toe inside of me drinking
from the well
felt of my
belly
your rhythms your words
your fine sense of control
your tender orchestrations
your scorings for timpani
your felt-covered toe
thumping inside of me
your calling me "patches."
to hurry home
& slip into
seamless bamboo.
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