|
when I drew your heart
on the card I drew
parentheses: I was not
inside: my desire was
the curve of a bird’s wing
glancing
light: that bird
I trapped as a boy
tried to blind me: you were
elsewhere
*
in this small country
this small boy sings
the only experience is overseas
neither loved nor loving
I am nearly American
my mouth describes
what it cannot kiss
*
calling your name
my tongue does not discover
the way in
sneaky feelings tell hard love stories
now you cross your legs
an artful starlet tossing me
ever-after glances
*
only the innocent can be
one with you: unaware
while gas ripens the apple
memory is a lecher’s prompter
I wear this designer skin: you can
undo every receptor: I am tired of
trying to be one
my pale miracle
with these words
We’re gonna have a good time
*
you moved through a Mt Eden bedroom
along the opening sentence of a novel
We came to the city in early summer
the dusk tucked under your left eyelid
the dawn indexed with your ring finger
another birthday to drink away
on the card I drew this tree, this wick
an oiled wrestler
overturning the world
turning
|
in black ink
this tree, this wick
shivering with lightning
an oiled wrestler
turning the world over
dancing
on a bullock’s back
on a hillock’s lick
forever
there
*
with the sadness of large spaces
We’re gonna have a good time
the particular feels allegorical
digesting an accent
spitting echoes
as the sea describes
infinity to the bitter harbour
*
calling your name
his tongue invents your flesh
the way out
how you cross your heart
how you cross this nought
off your designer world
dark laughter swarming with dwarf stars
*
right, God can’t be
among the streetwalkers
exile has its pleasures but where
virgin without worldly accessories
unpick the stitching
holding body to soul
take me to pieces
capillary by capillary
with your tongue
Take a cha-cha-cha-chance
*
cutting through millions of streaky windows
to an hour-glass figure in Santa Barbara
Yes we’re going to a party
your right eyeball orbiting my dream
the real McCoy curling your belly
then I drew your heart in black ink
shivering with lightning
the curve of a bird’s wing
turning the world
over
|
