BIG CITY CENTRES, AIRPORTS, YOUR EYES & OTHER PLACES I GET LOST IN

BIG CITY CENTRES, AIRPORTS, YOUR EYES
(& OTHER PLACES I GET LOST IN)

I

This wolf town is perfect for me
its dirty cinematic edges
& violent singsong

it kills with alacrity
& I will dominate every inch
of the cage

my fur & my nails & my blood & my teeth
ecstatic
for fight

I am clinically insane when I write—
frantic

and I was certain I had no more love poems in
me, until I met
you.

*

When I’m with you I hear the music

*

There’s nothing worse than a man in love

& I am in the throws of the ether bender
& anyone still political is a waste of space
& I work and love, I’m like Babe Ruth here, I’m hitting home runs and I’m pitching a no-hitter

Terrorist attacks; wars; the killing of innocents; any sort of
human pain, distant or close;

the oblique truth is,
I do not care about the world

when you sleep quietly inside
a morning liturgical.


II

I have to describe your eyes

but your eyes describe the morning

as it steps out of a skyscraper in the midst of the ocean

that a mad god raised out of longing for a word

which electrically danced through his fingers, once, and ever since

he’s as incomplete as the moon in a coffee cup.

*

The Progression of Things:

2. your kiss the locomotive
3. Paradise runs in your veins
1. I ate my heart when I saw you

*

I want to get your beautiful alone & I want
to get you into bed & badly & hide myself
in all the secret places
of your heart & meet you again and again
like a lemniscate & get baptized
in the fire of
your hands.

To go places
limerent & unclocked.

*

Death, the coin in both our pockets;
spend it away with me.

*

Sitting inside a magical afternoon
of cigarettes, jazz blues, cannibalistic shadows, red and the King James Version
and, of course, you

tentative as the universe.


III

the day the unimaginable
happened, we were fast asleep
in each other’s arms;
and so, we never found out what it was

*

she’s got the rain in her fingers
(who put the rain in your fingers, girl)

you touch like the rain does
(I’d burn down a church for you, I’d do)

*

otherwhere, Life took place undisturbed
but in the inner workings of our
palate
the mechanism broke
the machine’s veins burst
the clock stood splendid tharn—

we missed a couple trains

*

girl with a small room
and a big smile

the morning lies at your feet
ecclesiastic

& those thalassic eyes of yours
of which the summer has
for a hundred lives
sung

your waist is my meridian
& the palace of your tongue

*

You’re one terrible thief;

that night you
stole from me what was
yours already.


Kandinsky – Soft Hard