Three WYB Outtakes ('07/'08)


Stark


You’re like an obsessive
astronaut: coveting space,
empty vacuums, stretching
outwards around you, deep
as wolf-hour dreams, dark
as bottoms of rocky peaks.
I live, breathe, in your sleep.
My need: toothed like a shark.
There is no reconciling this.
Uneasy space is rank to kiss.
I’m lowly wise, a slug, stuck
to woody surfaces, rocky
bottoms, yours. What luck:
between your legs is bold and stark.



Fins


Your scales are wave-hewn.
You are soporific as a siren.
Around you limbs are strewn.
It’s fin to tail chess. Pawns
move in an undulant fashion.
I have nothing to trade you
but a marching soldier’s gun
I know little of. I know what
to do with him, loosely, but
really this air has me kite-high,
ready to blow, high to black sky.
Then, on the shore of your
wide world I kneel before you,
hopped up on sedated nerves. 



Floss


I’m Eternity’s Pilgrim, I’m
hot enough to broil flesh, I
am made one with Nature,
yours, every time you flip
over for me. It’s cynical to
speak in these terms, but
I’m captain of a wet ship—
you’re sub someone, slut.

It’s a big identity mess. It’s
me angling to parse an angle
not yet gelled, where there
is “we”, & we’re newfangled.
It’s a bunch of bullshit.
I’m floss on thorns, tangles.