Monthly Archives: May 2012

Here XIII

Here

A country
doesn’t exist,

only a name
that signifies nothing

we are searching
the body’s chaos that radiates

You, my homeland is
in your language I came hard

in the present
we are so smooth

now I am pointing north Oh
I am a half-open window

Here

I feel
spring air spreading

in your
legs, throughout night

Light hands welcome
the earth’s secret

like a cigarette
unraveling early May light slightly

askew over and over
again. We master the music

of our bodies. As night begins
I multiply more than electricity

 

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Here XII

Here

Yer nature’s magical
act, electrified

you rain meaning
a note

always I’m lost
inside my mind.

Rain is good
like wine. Yer voice

pierces breezes
wet with dew

Here

I am handsome
from a distance I love

the lure of one
moment to this now

for forever
is too short

Rock me, baby.
Rock me all night long

 

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Here XI

Here

desire’s invented what cannot
be fulfilled. It is impossible to

imagine I am when I desire
music falling

Here

today it seems
more natural

before war
to raise

the body
and other desires

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Here X

Here

color begins to be romantic
and still you are

fall and
thunder, taste of

Honey, I am
delirious

like a peach
and very charming

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Here IX

Here

the beginning. You are
my tomorrow dream for

a song—
longing is

longing every atom
on the horizon

your body,
a warm light

Here

The past stands
happy. You were

born with
the invention of air,

the silky rain
on glass

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Here VIII

Here

Where is my mind
hiding. The other meaning

of yer name,
longing, the beginning

you are
my tomorrow, music.

For the night I have
no yesterday

and do not dream
for a song

other than
your song

Here

this, the universe’s
pulse is filled with you

Here

longing is
from distant provinces,

the specialty of
memory in my speech

having hit the street. The rain
continues to crawl

because of memory’s inability
to retrieve you, tomorrow

Here

a previous emotion
never tires of lying

to add what did not exist
to what did

Here

Honestly, the tree becomes a forest
unaware of the garden

or the past
in the mirror

Here

longing every movement of
time being

happy, as if you were
beginning light distilled

like a drop of water,
to enter a form for there

is no past and present
because you do not remember

one atom
on the horizon

but you see you were born
in white sleep, in this

circular
non-place

Here

you emerged from a sky
like this rising to
feeling

sheer bliss
scattered on

your body, the invention
of air

just created
resembled reality

without a memory. You long a body
free of longing

the silky rain
on glass stirs desire

and a warm room
for light to rise

from the body’s night cured
of the present groaning that glitters,

tomorrow,
a star

Here

the sound of
the wind takes you

around its country
enveloped in its dark

plants until your pores soak up the smell
of longing someone

who never witnessed
a massacre
hangs from a cypress tree

Here

I wish I
were there

laughing with you.
Forgive me,

I could not
find my language

Here

Where am I?
Lie to me, say: I am

alive, like you. Was death
that beautiful? I am

a body tied to wires
and I cry

out to know I am
alive for a time

even when it
takes the form of a nightmare

Here

that beautiful scar
inside this heart

is the country’s
fingerprint on this body

Here

I will come
with you after

its blemishes
have been removed

Here

Make tonight
a shared past,

a memory, afflicted with
longing to forget

the war
hasn’t ended

still
Come with me, tonight

born from every beautiful
tomorrow before all turns to dust

Here

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Here VII

Here[1]

why use
our form

give
me

only

this you

there


[1] Refrigerator magnet poem. May 10, 2012. Nick’s kitchen. Ypsi, MI.

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Here VI

Here

I woke up remembering the world
wanted in, her

dress, the air
it seemed wrapped in perfume

falling from her bare skin
to test its freedom
what I have called immortality

what I am now saying if I am
the one saying what I say.

You lie
stretched out before me

I am what you dictate
if you are the non-place

Here

in the light of absurd
reality, the imagination

is coincidence
what saves us from nothingness

Here

a rhyme brings you back
to be beyond the object of

my longing, long since gone. We were
the wind, endless     We were the world,

something new,
out of control, snow

pillowed our back,
held us

up. You wake
in the morning

to catch the dream
you missed, yearning

the meaning shadow flies toward tomorrow
open for delicate music and

language which you understand
then how to dream

your exterior
beyond this abyss

upon you
like dew

trickling
from a night embracing a day

 

 

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Here V

Here

The first line asks you:
Why are you anyone. A statue

is incapable
of want.

Just of love,
open possibilities, I want

in the evening
the past tense to carry me

through lilac blossoms
and nameless plants so clear, so

do not leave me in
this distance. Tomorrow you will

become magic
at dusk, obscurity. Here you are

the laughter of winds,
volcanic in nature,

in the angularity of
things living to restore what was broken

Here

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Here IV

Here

Outside when
you sing

with the light of oranges,
the rhythm of the sea

I can see my initial world
before this threshold of night.

Here

You lie stretched out before me.
I want nothing

I make. Anything being things
you occupy,

for this, even your heart
struck with love

like a rhyme—
how near you come,

fucked,
in other words,

—one surface of our sensory functions
woven of sun

sometimes not
so vague the concept

of reality, its ability to desire
to be the world

to be all I am,
no more and no less,

—the identity
of yes and no

 

Here

The memory of
music. This morning

revealed you,
infinity

and a mirror
between us

yet committed, I was unable
to dance from the non-place

I was only a farewell
that opens the beginning…

Here

The morning dawns nothing
new to breathe in this rotten air.

Here

You, a moon
and a dove

seeking refuge
of light,

free and liberated from
symbols

the soul produces noise,
strange—

a book signified
a utensil for
a homeland that exists

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