transparency of natural endeavor

her indentation a pressure point
to suppress dreams
that did not belong
in the vocabulary of her sleep,
sheets hid insecurities and ideals
naked form foetal curled,
an easy stereotype of an agitated mind,
face creased as much
as cotton pillow cover,
reclusive cave to that
twenty eight year identity
and hide it,
vodka bottle an empty on it’s side,
unable to rise
some piss had escaped
lemon floral bloom
washing microscopic secretions away
drowning them
a noah flood,
some clung
to droplet coated vaginal fur
where other bugs feasted
on what he had left behind
jellied semen being consumed
by eager ticks and bugs
not those that live on deer
roaming a frost bitten forest,
rolling cigarette
finger stubs stuffing tobacco
strands into place,
sat up thinking of the tensions
of the night,
looking at balled up blue panties
god she needed new ones
fabric had small holes
from fingers and eager pulling
to expose that vulnerability
not hers theirs,
sentimental erect rigs of flesh
to drill,
find rich seams of expendable fossil fuels
gasification of the soul
for we are carbon
and can be exhausted as quick,
the restoration of vision from thought
so relentless was her life
in reality could not cope with the debris
it remained as she continued,
bic lighter sputtered for a second
cigarette taste washed with cold dregs
of coffee as mug became ashtray,
inhaling
toilet flushed in other room
the drench of his fecal smell
filled the room before he left
a sour note
yet one she accepted,
she was a historical condition
and redemption would not come
with glowing analysis
finding place in biological and physical realms
and stepping away
from a climate of
frustration

wolf teat extravaganza

all around
inertia falls apart,
leap to the call of the luperci,
the she wolf nurtured
needs bloods strong flow,
goat and dog sacrifice
sword dipped in blood

(boxes of cocoa confection)
compliant to the wine
goat purification,
fauna from the woodland
scythed into sheaves

(vases and pillows)
arts of abstraction
together in this time
of declaration and proclamation

(all for the twins)
born from vestal and mars
days of hunger
and ripe fertlity
gelase wished to end

(sacred cakes)
loins of vestal virgins
februa whipped
lustratio complete,

cardboard cast into trash
wilted and thornless
red petals scattered forlorn,
human pastoral tribe
exalted to the yearning
department store sales are up
and the day is done

ROBERTO BOLAÑO – LISA

When Lisa told me she had made ​​love
Another, in the life of that phone booth
Tepeyac store , I thought the world
He had for me. A tall skinny guy and
With long hair and a long dick that did not wait
Over an appointment to penetrate to the bottom.
There is something serious , she said , but
The best way to get you out of my life.
Parmenides Garcia Saldana had long hair and had
Been the lover of Lisa , but some
Years later I learned that he had died in a psychiatric clinic
Or that he had committed suicide . Lisa and I did not want
Go to bed with losers. Sometimes I dream
With her and see her happy and cold in Mexico
Designed by Lovecraft. We listen to music
( Canned Heat , one of the preferred groups
Parmenides Garcia Saldana ) and then we
Love three times . The first came inside me
The second came in my mouth and the third , just a thread
Water , a short fishing line, between my breasts. And all
In two hours, said Lisa . The two worst hours of my life,
I said from the other side of the phone.

Mario Bojorquez – Award

As the last day does not return You’ll never be that high voice Tundía under the breath of infinite almonds A lullaby to his chest You will not have to be that That shade of a poplar Rent the air with scattered notes The subtle scent of an afternoon on the river There will be no day you return to your expense Filled with memories of the dark obsequious Solar excessive idleness Cerns perfect As the last day does not return You never on your own steps A walking path open for you In the garden that keeps your memory Not even in deserted Frond you will have to tread To you because transit between fig fruit Pomegranates, flowers at your feet You’re just now that you did not want You’re the one who did not know what he wanted to say Greedy mouth no fruit chews That spoiled, bitch, feast and festival You’re the insaciado looking with envy The overwhelming joy of others Whoever hurts to the bone for the innocent laughter It will cloud your eyes with anger It will swell cruel hands remorse It poisons your blood What fire, what abandonment How miserable are the shores of life As the last day does not return No back in you will concoct bells Holidays in flowered fields Neither your hands browned wheat of eras Nor whiten your snow on your mill As if you had closed universe In a thick fog that prevents you Learn what the rock crevice That must be the source where you drink As if the universe against you Injected into the air that poison Bending your knees So as the day turns A spin on its hinges hours and passes And overhead the sun will go down Lost to So you lose So as you lose you lose The scent in the air that always blows hard You’ll miss so terribly That to your eyes can recognize your own skin Neither your ears hear your voice As if talking on another that you Not even your blood It will respond pálpito And the tongue utter A language that is unknown to you today. Do not grieve Hurt to lose. You call Bitter, in your gums It will bloom a garden of tree-scale And in your head start seborrhea high tufts Niagara mist in your eyes You call without reproach wounded The living skin ulcer land where you step Without faith you call And there will be another you Built in penalty That round will infect Leprosy is righteous It must distinguish in the market The mob cried He will announce you arrive The stench of your acids The clear bell is anticipated And you wondered why back Why and what And what return If the return would smell bouquets awaiting your step If yes minor fronds fruit curds, cheerful blooms, light concrete and acid, And back with an army of sources nymphs dancing for you If I go back in the water, ductile, light, fluent, if in the air If you awaken in the back you are, if you come back spin, spinning, start from yourself If you become, if you founded back, come back without hesitation Although recent days should not happen again

Léopold Sédar Senghor – Elegy Of Midnight

 

Summer, splendid Summer, nourishing the Poet on the milk of your light
I who grew up like the wheat of spring, which made me drunk
From green water, from the green steaming in the gold of Time
Ah! no longer can I tolerate the midnight light.
The splendor of such honors resembles a Sahara,
An immense void, with neither erg nor rocky plateau,
With no grass, no twinkling eye, no beating heart.
Twenty-four hours a day like this, and my eyes are wide open
Like Father Cloarec’s, crucified on a boulder by the Joal pagans
Who worshipped snakes. In my eyes the Portuguese lighthouse
Turns round and round, twenty-four hours a day,
A precise and restless mechanism, until the end of time.

I jumped out of bed, a leopard about to be snared,
A sudden gust of Simoom filling my throat with sand.
Ah! if I could just collapse in the dung and blood, in the void.
I turn around among my books watchilng me with their deep eyes
Six thousand lamps burning twenty-four hours a day.
I stand up lucid, strangely lucid. And I am handsome,
Like the one-hundred-runner, like the rutting black stallion
From Mauritania. I carry in my blood a river of seeds
That can fertilize all the plains of Byzantium
And the hills, the austere hills.
I am the Lover and the locomotive with a well-oiled piston.

Her sweet strawberry lips, her thick stone body,
Her secret softness ripe for the catch, her body
A deep field open to the black sower.
The Spirit germinates under the groin, in the matrix of desire
The sex is one antenna mong many where flashing messages are exchanged.
Love music no longer can cool me down, nor the holy rhythm of poetry.
Against this despair, Lord, I need all my strength
—A soft dagger in the heart as deep as remorse.
I am not sure of dying. If that was Hell: the lack of sleep
This desert of the Poet, this pain of living, this dying
From not being able to die, the agony of shadows, this passion
For death and light like moths on hurricane lamps at night,
In the horrible rotting of virgin forests.

Lord of light and shadows,
You, Lord of the Cosmos, let me rest in Joal-of-the-Shades,
Let me be born again in the Childhood Kingdom full of dreams,
Let me be the shepherd of my shepherdess on the Dyilôr tanns
Where dead men flower, let me burst out applauding
When Téning-Ndyaré and Tyagoum-Ndyaré enter the circle
And let me dance like the Athlete to the drum of this year’s Dead.
This is only a prayer. You known my peasant’s patience.
Peace will come, the Angel of dawn will come, the singing of birds
Never heard before will come, the light of dawn will come.
I will sleep at dawn, my pink doll in my arms,
My green- and gold-eyed doll with a voice so marvelous,
It is the very tongue of poetry.

—Translated from the French by Melvin Dixon

(from Nocturnes, 1961)

consistency of skin

the rain was inexhaustible,
drawing his jacket
closer about his chest,
pacific rain and bothered grey
clouds added to urgency,
trees in their reach
did not create a canopy
dense enough,
unable to hear the helicopter,
footprints dissolving into mud,
but his scent would illuminate
nostrils of eager tracker with
muted eyes,
lowering himself
more towards the bushes,
water ran over his face,
he still felt heading north
was an objective,
finding the cabin
would of been easy
had summer still been here,
pausing for the slightest breath,
looked up at limbs
grasping from the trunk,
and wondered would it be worth it,
there would be no more marvelous
sensations,
yesterdays vividness had given way
his futile hope screamed,
kneeling said a last prayer
and waited

http://dversepoets.com/

Denise Levertov – Olga Poems

fierce candles

winters thorns bury deep
flesh pierced by that uneased dark
until candles dripping pale
tore aside the emptiness
illuminating dust
and a heart enclosed deep beneath a breast
her warmth reflected in those eyes,
he would embrace,
beyond all walls a snowy temper raged
sweeping alongside doors
muffling all that was brutal,
in hold and secure
dawn was a long way off
a thousand years would pass
before a few magic smitten would know
stars would die
and planets turn
winding in secrets so human,
lips tremble withholding so many words
that he would say
and she would reply
as a chosen wonder,
that urge carnal became a vapor
glimmer of hope,
and futures peace at stake,
memory fickle put upon pages
of a shameless scrawl
edited by many kings
dissolved into legend and myth
springs reaction would reveal much,
embrace over
fragile reflections and shadows
for the movement so vividly intact
would leave so many
damaged echoes
that conflict is inevitable

http://dversepoets.com/

sperm fades in eden

inhale crystal alice
staircase fingers touching my back,
rabbit martyr
tick , tock
late in the hole,
wednesday stays naively next to tuesday,
as mound of mouth
makes wanton sounds
oh sweet ace of hearts
burn my face
as at the table
in shame and desperation,
tea irresistible at the moment
with insanity breaking loose
mosaic tiles of words and thoughts
propose a whole new story
closer to the experience,
of what the dormouse knew,
shrunken head
damn liquid
mind implodes,
best to roll on back
tilt the ceiling to see the truth
four  thousand stars have brought

http://dversepoets.com/

Off The Perfumed Saddle

piano keys washed in honey [ woman bathing in time ]
sexualist extreme ,
broken straw bed
assembled ingredients of a virgins reflection

desire/slutton/erogenous/ unforgiving

bitter fingers play [woman dried on flowers flesh]
hungering absolute yet no permanence
jazz expelled drum beat symphony

tatoo/dollars /benign/fragile

[woman forgotten in memories light]
supple sinewy ghosts on sunset go

 

a raw experiment for @dVersePoets 55 prompt

http://dversepoets.com/