POEMS 6-26-19

IM

He toys with me 

I had been thinking

You are a toy he says

So little a tiny toy

I’ll carry you home

I’ll carry you I’ll carry you!
I am a Scorpio! I'm a Scorpio!

When are we going to have sex!

I hear DeLillo’s Eric Packer?

The knife goes in the heart of the bull

Three times and the blood gushes!

Like Fred Astaire he slides 

Fast cutting angled side steps across the floor

An unknowing flamenco.

The furious and stupid 

Virago enters the door.

His performance stops.

But it didn’t quite happen that way.

Untitled

How do I know

If the fish in my brain

Refuse to swim up

To the surface plane?

All glittering scales

Flashing in light

Telling me yes and yes

It will all be right.

IM 

In Robert Wilson’s Opera:

The Life and Times 

Of Sigmund Freud,

I saw you run

Before you were born.

A Mercury of Time,

Now a running Apollo 

Scribbled all over

By drunken Dionysians

With Intentions of Parrhesia

You know nothing about.

Seeing you now confuses

The past which was

The future and this present

Mirroring the past.

Is there a tense somewhere

That they call

Future past or past future

Like the Intentional of the Hopi?

Because her car was laden

With Destiny that came

Crashing across my lifeline

Forcing me to live

In Alterity; waving at her

Drifting farther away,

Until I almost can’t hear her sigh.

It is not the present which influences the future, thou fool, but the future which forms the present. You have it all backward.  Since the future is set, an unfolding of events which will assure that future is fixed and inevitable. CHILDREN OF DUNE  Leto II p. 278 *

Don’t hold your breath

The Buddha says

Breathe through each

Moment of Samsara.

IM

It is better to marry

Said St. Paul,

Than to burn.

I disagree.

It is through burning 

That I see

Your challenge thrown at me:

Turning all those fetishes

Of tattoos on arms thighs and lives

Laboring to burn memories Into flesh.

Bought wounds from Studios of Design

Selling trendy.