Olga Orozco- No Doors

With burning sands styling a number of fire over time,
law with a wild animal lurking danger from its burrow,
with vertigo looking up,
your love is kindled but a lamp in the middle of the night,
with small fragments of a world consecrated to idolatry,
with the sweetness of sleep with all your skin covering the cost of fear
in the shadow of leisure tenderly opened a range of celestial meadows,
did everyday loneliness I have.
My loneliness is made of you.
Take your name on your side of stone
in tense silence where they can play all the melodies of hell;
walk beside me with your empty step,
and has, like you, that look that I’m going to look farther each time,
yesterday to a glare that dissolves in tears, in ever.
The doors to my left as one leaves the heir to a
                   [Realm of anyone who goes out and never comes back.
And it grew by itself
feeding on these herbs that grow on the edges of memories
and on stormy nights produce mysterious mirages
scenes with the best bonfires fed fevers.
Well I’ve seen people with blurred malls who sacrifice love
-Invincible characters marble, blind-absorbed as the distance,
or deploy in the middle of a room that rain falling seaside
away in another part ¨,
where you will be filling the bowl with water a few years of neglect.
Sometimes blowing on me with a south wind
a stormy song that suddenly breaks into a broken throat groan of bliss,
or try to delete a piece of ragged hope
goodbye that you wrote with the blood of my dreams in all crystals
to smite everything I watch.
My loneliness is all I have of you.
Howl with your voice in every corner.
When named with your name
grows like a sore in the darkness.
And a sunset up in front of me
that cup of sky was the color of wet poplar and in which
                            [We have drunk the wine of eternity each day,
broke and not knowing, to open the veins,
for you were born as a god of his splendid duel.
And he could not die
and his look was that of a madwoman.
He opened a wall
and walked into this room with a room that has no outputs
and where you’re sitting, staring at you in another life like my solitude.

aerial burden of the ox

with the old decades shown in the rain
burdening me with a dampness
remorse in it’s wanting has,
flesh colored dreams
drawn tight into deep constriction
the next day would be more relevant,
sipping a coffee cold at the edges
no plate on the mat
hunger not the issue here,
wet clothes painful to the bone
unnoticed by a vapor soul,
scented thoughts
as my mind peeled
drawn into segments pithy and secretive,
pieces i could look at
and not venture a taste
any sweetness gone
acrid juice spilling over lingering images
this fight so ancient
could break me down at the yoke
leaving a harvested husk
and no resonance,
only to be lifted skywards
coffee grew cold
mat still empty

17 , 17 syllable American Sentences

Following a dVerse incentive i try the American Sentence a flourish of lines at 4am this morning hope they go down ok

1: his nose punched flat lips split pouted looking for a fight every night

2: a can of schlitz sunset and low slung impala remedy for loss

3: obstinate kisses infect toothache jaw ache headache neurology needed

4: motel marinade coated and baked off counted dollars and returned to the street

5: diamond finger tug gold band reminder these kisses where illicit

6: sat hunched on the toilet hand working the memory that he had betrayed

7: winters pale counterpane gave no shelter for the rabbit from predatory air

8: reasons could be found on the diminishing length of yesterdays words

9: dial the number wait for tone he would not answer he is long gone

10: jazz piano raw as her voice began to crack it was no longer 1954

11: seek the stars and they will not shine anticipating the moment to surprise

12: guitar strings strangle all chances of finding reconciliation

13: two finger pressure shudder she releases a sigh he was erased

14: bellboy at end of marble hall hear titans whisper demise of poor

15: grandpa’s hand once so steady gone leaves remember tobacco smell

16: over ocean swathe she watches vessel under pirates color sail

17 : amity beach july bathers swim children play mayor falters shark prowls

horizons last echo

april sky so soon

drifting on a serpents tail,

leave things unsaid

as land sloop nods it’s sails

passing by

current winds darkly,

past rises and falls

heart regains soft perfume

and patient curve of dreams,

the dose of milky words is measured

and watch strong veins yield,

fertile nymph swift winged

with gentle reprimand and sweet caress

each phrase an anchor

she is the earth i sought

connect and chains alike rendered

into length across the gulf

range to stars and hand shaped sun,

beam downward facing light

it’s shift as hot  as a hammer strike,

layers heat stripped back

pool of her shine

into a naked dance

witnessed by constellation

who appraised and agreed,

becoming fugitives

beyond a shouting earth

we fled on the arch

of freedoms ray

 

Charles Bukowski – Last Straw

Charles Bukowski one of his last readings in 1980