2010 pointers.

today, i sat and listened to people. hard and long.
there was a man, another man and they were not united, they said.
we must find a secular tradition to stop all this bloodshed.
i slaughtered a hen yesterday in mind to eat nice chicken.
sensitivity to violence for mankind. humanism. dead.
ask, ask, i will enlighten. curiosity for solutions.
dialogue for answers, and discourse for me.
full stops work so well.

To the poet

dry, dry the ordinary
while observing the kite,
drawn by the wind-
your eyes flash,
and you note:
[eager, naturalist
and authentic as the green]
there is air,
around me,
and you.

feel it not to be alone.
he said.

to you before this world.

You little, little woman
Smiling so much and happy all
What did you dream,
When you passed through that curtain,
Passing it over like a veil rent
And running
Like no one can
Rush and your father,
Surprised this love can hold so much
In your grin at your every smile-
Or how much you may be lifted off this world
Then feel the air swing around,
as only a bird can
in her dear moments of depression;
You take it in, this life with swoops of joy
Unfailing catching you, he records them
For later, his girl happy.
You move head towards the chest,
A slight touch all your affection
Pencilled at only his heart
There are then, just you and him.
Untouched.

this. this, looking

The photographs that circulate
Hiding and coming from beneath,
Showing nothing for symmetry.
See that mosquito,
Floating a few intransmissible seconds
Against the rectangular colour of light,
He will find his way.
That bastard,
Tasting my blood in a minute I am sure.

And swallowing that glutton’s shadow
Lying in a room naked,
Watching your bodies rise after a long time
Eavesdropping on the movements behind that door,
You imagine yourself in an orgy
Or the king beckoning his prize for sex,
Then the sounds do not call out.
How these fucking myths live.
Dangerously
My fantasies bear no mention in my will.
That silence is an empty wooden jewel box,
I carry wealthy shit around,

Listen to your father.

There is he around you, leaning with a neck of fond. I watch reflectively, that he is my object. And there is nothing there, around his eyes. No dark circles, no lines crossing, no wrinkles meeting, they watch like a crow’s beads, absorbing shit and more. And he watches me with them, with love, earthly and bald and there, right there. Sitting there with love. And I do not stop it. What about men with longer hands? They are just luckier. He has beads. He doesn’t look elsewhere. I must remain happy for that he promises.

LE MAUDLEEN PLAY

And then it creeps in again today
Shaking the minds out of its boxes,
And scattering them in the wind
Lulling the body to sleep,
Catching bodies and love
In every step.

Dost thou cry?
In truest spirit of thou word?
Wont to stay in the dark?
Spill the water and the blood!

The male performs,
Killing the little with his eye.
We all suck for food.
Wishes perhaps that would do me
And my life a favour.
Pass me some good.

The air hovers over the bod
die as she sleeps,
for doesn’t all of me dry asleep,
and fighting swords tire?
Carry me and kill the king and queen,
And we may marry multiples.

As I wash my hands in blood,
Will someone wake the body up?
We must run way, sandstorms
Creak well with every race
After all the nights,
They only make noise
And grind sand in the air.

Like you, for me.

I need you to remember
The body of yesterday,
The voice and the air.
You cannot forget the light,
Or its dimming to a nothing hollow and
How geometry feels in the dark,
Later against you nude=
Memorise.
How I traced, the
Nailed finger tips in a swishing of some clothes
Pushing against you, warm still self.
Hold me till I stay,
My breasts, my stomach and my hair
-the compressions in your mind.