1.7.15

Any Incision

My idol-idol our love is sumthing
that ought be incised, scraped, filleted
or gently rolled off its skin, and propped
maybe on sword piks, held open like stomach
matter before the medical examiner,

and then this stuffing of ours could be
discarded, dragged eventually from the dumpster
by rodents, tracked after by dogs, and walked by
dog-walkers onto fine carpets to be likewise
dredged over all of the floors of both of
our houses, trace by bitty trace making it
back out to the lawns outdoors, and in
again; eventually dried grey and disinfected,
but our love wont allow any incision, will it?

1.7.15

incredibly tight with my crafty

incredibly tight with my crafty

don't like anything nassty

drawin up plans theyyy beautiful

livin in hills that bounty

trees got to me way back

i see how sharp lines

in wizened bark form eyes

i see /how sharp lines be

yeah never loose like paint

water o my brook seems quaint

cuz once tried to be a saint

but you know i ain't dutiful

still incredibly tight with my crafty

drawin in lines they enact me

yeah only like whatsss musical

livin in hills that bounty
trees in these foots i walk all the
time seein sharp lines

widening mine

1.7.15

The Dust Catcher

I am The Dust Catcher, mother. I am woman.
I surround you. Use me. Breathe me. Let me
be your eyes, your womb, your plaything,
your canvass, your tomb.

I'm a nurse. A cursed fairy, come drink from
my fountains, be cleansed. I'm a witch. You
may wade in my reeds, shrivel up
in my cauldron.

I purify the stray, lick cock for the damned,
lead your pen, guide your brush, bend your
step that you might hush in my
eternal love, forgiven.

i wrote this poem at 17 when i realized many people drawn to me had dust on them. i did not want to be a dust catcher. i wanted no dust on me, and to be rid of my own dust. on LSD i tore the poem and deposited it in a public bin. yrs later laying under a sky of innumerable swiftly changing cloud faces, the eyes of a cloud belonging to the mouth and tongue of another, ears and cheeks of other clouds belonging to other clouds and evermorphing the words came from the sky just as i wrote them in a strong womans voice i finally recognized as my own.