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3 Fall was...
reputedly from another country wore glaring cravats, gold leaf and Rubenesque chain; stalked the lark mocked the breeze.
4 Penny wise, pound poor leaves a shock of hair prematurely white degradingly picked from the comb flung out fireflies crisp bodies to singe fire-cold light.
5 Advancing stairs in poor light, the season became makes.h.i.+ft wallpaper hung by tedious hands.
Little seep of plaster dirt escaping the touch, gra.s.s bristled by frost where occasional flower was torched with cold savaged bees stumbled from the weeds.
METAPHOR
There is a star near the hinge of planets, a barn under a cow's lick of moon-- plausible people moving thru an airless universe.
Pay attention to the frond of lilac . . . limestone troughs upon which thickets of Indian scalp & devil's paintbrush soar to the horizon and, afterwards, little creeks run with the sparrows of evening time in step to tiny boatmen that echo enamelled snails from the very consonants of earth.
Rustle of leaves, some might argue breathless gasps to intone the savagery of little seasonal voices cut off mid-stream.
A spate of bees, early colonizers deflower blossoms and strip-mine lava b.u.t.ter of erupting hard-sh.e.l.l tulips: such careless penetrations-- volcanic intrusions entomb their hairy bodies caked with the iron-lung of blackened soot petals, each a cough drop on the heaving breath of a declining afternoon.
EMBERS
As you enter into dream-- its the unconsciousness which stifles, the thin embers called flame that outdistance the controlled rubric of desire.
SKIN
Her emerald top phosph.o.r.escent candy glow stick candy, sno' cane-- floss like the mane revealed beneath, spun hair matted/woven into icicle lengths & pubis mink.
Her presence as a monk sliding under a cowl, jet-black velvet or midnight eye-liner shadow knotting strands of dark.
She comes on waves-- candelabra is a name deft movement of finger caressing storm, bare legs s.h.i.+ning wet street lamps decantered ambered wine.
Cigarette floating between lips, uncharted voyage of the smile where puffs of smoke are parrots' wings, incandescent show-girls in novelty across the flame.
ASGARD
In the ardour of an Asgard fire see adders from her vinous fire per adua ad astra.
Listen to the wind-- the ageless, intoning wind, a sea-hag encrusted on a mattress of waves.
Cat's footfall, breath of fish the flowering beard of a woman.
OLD BROMPTON ROAD
"Death is but a sleep"
quaint rationalization even to Revolutionaries.
Think of Robespierre holding his bleeding jaw or Marat outside-- eyeing the inscription, scofula no longer distracting while tepidly emptying bath water.
2 Dreams, poetry of painting, deathly pastel shades alongside granite canyons entwined with rosebuds and leaves-- bone horseshoes clanking in the dark.
3 Catch basin, drainage ditch upon which the raspberry parts its tendrils and human remains, the loathing of the living ("not dead yet...."
...appropriate obscenity:) scrawled on one Victorian mortuary, windows knocked out, coffins in full view a hand's reach away on a dare dignitaries in a pile pried loose; one, few years hence across the Channel, sworn enemy to the French.
STREET SCENE
No open barge crowded with nameless waifs or junks in a teeming harbour --just odours spilling from a back alley, stair wells littered with cheap saki bottles, one propped to rifle the door.
IN MY BOOKS
The way I figure it, a number of people are out of control at any given time ...
gin rummy & hockey notwithstanding.
Mickey bottles and varicose veins are sure signs of indulgence as are, proof-positive, speed-traps & roll your own Black Cat.
Sure 'nuff, even Sunday driving stands at the motor edge of frenzy while Mom's apple pie is little more than just peaches & cream home baked greed.
Take stock car racing or the trots, Little Orphan Annie Comics or Budweiser. Vice, like charity, starts at home.
Each curtails a larger problem and self wors.h.i.+p begins the moment your zipper opens.
MADE IN s.p.a.cE
Mood food. In deep, deep water without the thought of water bottom, I thought of you.
Sous la peau rouge, Chartreuse, I thought of you.
Dans le cafe du paradis, ile au emeraude.
Cascades aux ecrivisses la belle aux Bois dormant.
Tir a l'arc, volcon.
Precious little majesty to Words nor necromancy of place names, ma douce.
Partout, je te vous.
