FAST.
Before the god damn internet goes down again.
I hate spending precious minutes trying to stand on my head in one corner of my studio to get online.
But.
Here we are and I am going to make this short.
Because they deserve to stand on their own.
Voila!
The Ten Principles
I.
While you were sleeping—love came and went, dancing
A triple toe trapeze tango of adoration. Spinning fast
Her heart swinging on a curled pink ribbon of gewgaws, prancing
Feet tip toeing through the cold dust float flashing past
My arms. Aching to cradle you against sugar tit breasts,
I breathe deep into the mask of Universality, while the glowing
Moon eclipses the mountains, all calico decked slumbering beast
Pushing through purpled velvet haze—God, not crowning
Michelangelo, but breathing soft the hairs of strawberries, bent
Underneath the thumb pad of kissing desires, all the plump,
Soft, smooth, cooling wonder of marble, the pursed lips, immediacy
In this plush madness of moment and soul lifting exuberance.
II.
Through the rooms filled with snow, her name went, Mathilde,
Participatory departed, like soft dusky punk pink roses on flushed
Cheeks. She chased the soul shadows like imagined butterflies, mild
With stupor across the lamplight of your lunar lit interior, hushed
To enwrap your sleep chilled fingers beneath warm curves.
She reached for you. Come with me, she whispered shivered lush,
Low, a mewling cry of desire complacent under groves
Of moon tinted shadow snow dunes painted grey blue, a thrush
Back, beneath the dewy breathe of my craving. While
I watch, wallflower like, the bent beat of my heart, harsh
Crying like wild geese at midnight flying the last mile
Blinded by the mechanic bleeding colors of erotic ash
Necrotic fallings from the sky, the embers of comets, blooming
Fireworks, which scatter, and sigh on the hot winds gloaming.
III.
And she waltzed. Mathilda and her girls twirled past,
Leaving no trace of footprints, of fingerprints, on lost patterned
Hair ribbons in the shadowy fall of mourning. The last
Lowing calls of the mysterious night, a low howling of stranded
Knowing only too well, how you would awaken in this morn,
Love lost, stricken, wicked with unfulfilled longings. Dreams
Unremitted like dead stars still shedding old light. Mourn
With me this loss as well as the supple light streams
Sleeping. I scrolled my fingers along the nape of
Lion light emanating from your slumbering soul, hesitant
To lie next to you on that rumpled golden scruff—
I curl rather, at the edge of dawn, dredging determinant,
Retiring, restrained, stopped by the wry edge of self
My strivings and reachings pulling you down off the high shelf.
IV.
Wearing heaviest brocade skirts and rabbit fur muffs,
Civic responsibility for the bestowal of the velveteen jackalope kiss.
Betwixt crimson cantina of lust and the mixture of heat, the cuffs
Fall from my heart and I dance, bewildered and remiss—
Lost, forgetful, done in, brushing the butterfly pollen from
My closed eyes, like so much sleep crust, glitter sparkled
Down from above, the father of time, and the mother grim
The lost shoe in the dust. I blow freckled kisses, speckled
Across your neck, then collecting the very essence of you, a fragrant
Flower of night blooming remonstrance, all the wishes
Candles blown out and re-kindled, the fire a figment,
This small symbol dancing on the angels delicious
Bowed head—a corona, a sunburst, a nova flung
Forward. The Universe keens and I fall, wet, wrung.
V.
They pirouetted on ice skates built of elk bone and mouse hair—
Communal effort of wilding animals, crawling from the horizon on tender bellies
Toward that dusty Bethlehem of Eros. Where the, delicate, the fair,
The chaste, the virginal, line up, nay, flounce up, to be lie
Your fingers. And like so much powdered sugar spun flung
From warm beignets, they scatter across the vast lakebeds
Flash frozen underneath the high heartless moon, they sprung,
Unlike Athena from the forehead of Zeus, out of caravans, their heads
Fragments of you, a scent bouquet I would later
Find hidden in my pockets, a sachet, a filament of you—
Relics, sacraments, the ghosting hand of help greater
Then the reality of nothingness in front of me. Dew
Shimmer, a mirage of mighty, mighty love that dissipates
On shrieking winds growling down upon lost participants.
VI.
Chuckling hot chocolate fogged breaths at your snuffling snores,
The radical self-expression of Freudian dream analysis travels
Across the night time playa in search of golden s’mores
To sandwich itself greedily with. Dusted cinnamon time unravels
From powdered doughnut holes. While you were
Wandering, lost, looped, kiting high on rings of smoke,
Tattered shreds of flowing embers flew up into the ether—
Plumes, signs, signets, signals of unconscious drives and love broke,
Intoxicated self with, when I walked this world
Alone. Reaching always. Searching always. Forgotten mementos,
Rings flashing over fingers, always grasping, only to then whirl
Towards dust devils which flicker through the ethos
Of conscious ego states. I am here. I am there.
I am nowhere. Time, oh time, precious, spills soft as heather.
VII.
Drunk on Frenet and ginger ale backs, while you were sleeping,
The radical self-reliance of ravens swooping through the air
High above the choke dust gathering, the digestive reaping
No benefit from the over consumption. I spit out fear and I care
Dream you into being. While you were sleeping I
Gathered my skirts high, hands balled into hard fists, tight
With the longings of bees heavy headed with pollen. Fly
Me to the flower of that moon. Take swift the night—
Drink your pomegranate wine and I will eat your honeyed
Self—a glance of lusted swooning infatuation, Psyche
To your Cupid, frustrated no longer, less the moneyed
Love of convenience. Moving together, bound on the aching
Heartstrings irrevocably tied to each other, a tangled
Tight rope of carnival carnality, a bloodied heart mangled.
VIII.
I came and went, dressed in love’s trappings, cantaloupe
Colored decommodification, a dress built on the shimmering
Heat billowing below the desert mirage. An antelope
Gallops a head of me like a grey hound whippet, a glimmering
Song, the forest alive, to shelter you from the suns
Heart and the minds wanderings. I lean into this wind,
Surrendering again, let go, I whisper, the moisture falls
From my eyes, sea salt sorrow melts me. I am blind.
Black Mission figs for which I so hungered, yet I thirsted
First, always, only, for you. Unable to slack this need
I search endlessly, ceaselessly, across the white flats, bested
Only by ardent sensibilities, I watch you, this greed,
My unrepentant neediness, I cannot bear to sustain, yet always
I do. I shoulder you; ever beneath the binding suns rays.
IX.
Moon beams, raindrop garters, a shift I built on the
Gifting’s of iterant wanderers, silks, and sateen’s, cotton fine
As gossamer, the ghosted kisses of love, the lunar moth
Against the palm o my hand, the silvery star shimmer line—
Rays and the moon’s philandering’s. While you were
Walking with me, beside me, hand in hand, long legs flashing
Forward, covering vast ground, I had always walked, bare,
Alone, lifted on sparrow wings fragile looking, yet lasting.
For darling, while you were sleeping, I went a hunting,
A chasing, a twirling, a spinning, with my divining rod heart,
My palmistry set in my pack, my soul tucked in bunting
Baby rabbit skin, to find a place to nestle in, part
Dreamboat, part rowboat out at sea, likes a seedpod
Flouted from cattails, the dander of fairies, and the kisses of God.
X.
Backward migrations of monarch wings, I opened wide
My arms, ardent with radical inclusion. I accept all
Your love. I prosper, now, underneath the dark side
Of the lunar landscape, I dance, ecstatic, and then fall
Sleeping, as the women came and went speaking not of
Dusty spires of ashen truths fallen along the way
Side, strewn in the ditches, lost like the tattered clothes
Of crumpled doll dresses. No. This day, my heart allay
To find a bunting to wrap my baby in. Fur
Languished with laughter, swaths of parachute skins
Colored bright as sugar spun sunsets over mountains. Stir,
Me, shake me, toss me, I float, my arms laden with sin
Full, replete, taken within, to the abandonment of loving
You. My gifted wild trumpeting, my Jericho blowing.
Fin.
Auntiebubba 