Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Découpage

While men
cheat on beautiful women
The sky is still blue.
And tooth-aches still
come to children

What omens did you see last night?
What language in its bloom?
Some untruth
or the mad woman's
run across the temple
with her child-lover?

In some of the holy nooks,
erections rise like magnets and yeast
while in your own hair, lies air
and the fragments of a strange place.

Now
Then
What do you do
with yourself and
this man's tungsten breath?
Except spreading it like a prism
over your body.
Each ray-
poet,
filth,
monkey,
ringworm,
television,
deity,
equus.


When the sun has left the eyelids
only in the cadavers
of your tides
that flutter swallows in the womb
will you find them.

Like
answers that were strangled young.