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

Leon de Grieff – Song of Dinarzada / Canción De Dinarzada

You were mine, burning Dinarzada:
your whole being handed my supplication
your whole being is important to me Nothing!
everything your fire melted into my fire!

You were mine, burning Dinarzada!

Because I care what the grim blind course!
fire for me is desolate
barren plain! Lightened sailed
under the disheveled storm!

All your fire melted into my fire!

Your big heart, your ecstatic soul,
your fine spirit, I beg
surrendered: Nothing donáronse my!
Overnight: give me your arms only,
Dinarzada subtle, dream night …

You were mine, burning Dinarzada!
Everything your fire melted into my fire!

 

and in original Spanish

Tú fuiste mía, ardiente Dinarzada:
todo tu ser se le entregó a mi ruego!
todo tu ser se le rindió a mi Nada!
todo tu fuego se fundió en mi fuego!

Tú fuiste mía, ardiente Dinarzada!

Ya qué me importa el torvo rumbo ciego!
Es lumbre para mí la desolada
llanura yerma! Alígero navego
bajo la tempestad desmelenada!

Todo tu fuego se fundió en mi fuego!

Tu grande corazón, tu alma extasiada,
tu espíritu finísimo, a mi ruego
se rindieron: donáronse a mi Nada!
Noche: en tus brazos únicos me entrego,
Dinarzada sutil, noche soñada…

Tú fuiste mía, ardiente Dinarzada!
Todo tu fuego se fundió en mi fuego!

 

burning crooked roses

coyotes yip !

as i walk through baby cyclones

up the stairs to the sky

as she remained

on sweating rocking horse

deeply sea pearl glint in eye,

oh is there anything else other

than immortality,

reward and wisdom,

have i become the dog

that runs through muddy rivers

to wash the gasoline of brutality off,

i will never see an algae

covered stone coffin,

horse keeps rocking

travelling this

unremarkable earth machine,

stairs behind me

as are leaking babies

and crushed beercans,

no cloud castle

old vagrants song rings softly,

weeping in whitman’s embrace

i have left human shape

finger shadows reach

as frozen spider would,

my once and fevered love

rides on

poetry , poem

life and all inbetween

knotted wings of crows

with scarce strength

rise into rain,

below vegetation

burnished by fall

listens to the calls,

damp rooted trees

in eroded soil

cover to our

consummation,

revisited after twenty

years,

as one we move

our lives wove a story,

origin in these fields

birth from these fields

as cells would watch

these fields and woodland,

a last exhalation,

we would not return

an act of memory

physical and intricate

framed in the cortex

for tomorrow

119

 

Sunday Whirl, poems

Sunday Whirl 119

 

secret and vague in austerity

moon in nightspace became silversmith

light hammered over island

catching the nudity

i kept vigil over,

a saddened animal

hunched in an undergrowth habitat

i fed on something that dreams give

as i watched

her polished by tides overwhelm,

i could of been a nation on it’s knees

waiting for that one that comes

and brings a substance,

yet too afraid to show yourself

for fear of spoiling a grand occasion,

damp skin

natures jeweler working diamonds on,

a martyred bird called out

shriek of the night

she turned and i was certain of being seen

my eyes would be vivid in the darkness,

retreating with a tread  so soft,

knowing as you saw swept long hair

i would not possess

despite the urgency of my loins

without satisfaction i would have to wait

as this was not the night

dverselogo

threat of nature

waxwing

on your long leafed bough

through your mask

why do you fucking stare at me

through the window

i stare back

do you see me for what i am

a cuckoo

in another’s nest

mating with another’s wife

i cant help it

you beautiful bastard

if i had a gun

i would shoot you

yet watching head bow

beak rub bark

fragile in bone and feathers

you are nervous

afraid of predators

above and below

so fuck you

i am of the high order species

and do not forget

it

 

 

when she flies

loathing had been a mirror of his sleep,

now without sanitorium or astral light,

deaths pungency had gone

she lay before him,

naked as the solemnized wedding bed,

sewn with silk and love

cerise ridge scars

created with a skill he never knew he had,

her offal once mortal

he feasted upon

washed with wine and tears,

absorbing her

leaving her with mechanics,

parting her legs

felt for the copper tube

inserted handle

and turned each activating

and animating,

mechanical precision went into motion

body shuddered

eyes a shade of fog fluttered open,

she could move

with silence as her voice was no more,

he helped her dress

that velvet gown

he loved so much,

outside to walk again

without fear of bacteria or virus

morning filled the mountains with shadow,

holding hands

her face a dark riddle,

in her eyes she had the knowledge

to do the same for him

when that time came

to walk immortal together,

then she paused

he thought mechanics had failed

as she began to lift off the ground

taking flight,

he panicked calling out

as she slipped out of grasp,

soared higher into air

unable to reply,

that she had a lover she had

to find

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chagall, art, surrealism, steampunk

Chagall

 

 

so fast to nostalgia

sleep had frozen her eyes,

pulling away a draft between them

limbs stretched unwound

gleaming wounds had healed,

away from window awake,

bathroom without light

under sink cupboard with bleach and mouthwash

a bottle of bourbon in reserve,

pushed door to a crack

sat on a closed toilet seat

without that gaping void beneath his backside

sipping from the bottle,

put a hand in his shorts

rolled his penis between thumb and forefinger

damp from her

and sniffed,

faint lights illuminated heart,

head twisted sideways located tissue

shame to dab away,

as if removing her fluid,

her scent it would all end,

four years together,

she had guided him through a dry silence

concentration and love filled

earth and sky

as a solitary he would be unable to dance

and lament in lengthy boredom,

instead he stopped

stood lifting seat

dropped tissue in

pissed a long stream on continuity,

bourbon safely away,

new swarms changed names of thoughts,

into the bedroom

sprawled uneven she lay

at the window clutched the moon

and drew it back in

to be with them

a smile softer than his lips normally allow,

then settled alongside her

freeverse, poetry , poem

dVersePoets

without the wind

salt water in winter,

two fingers deep

secret to staying afloat,

vulva tides awash with secrecy

worn beneath cotton bedsheets

and that short black coat,

temptation and lust

a wanting beyond the

open expanse of ocean,

swell and topography,

knowing placement and feeling,

blind cartographer

left fingerprints and tongue

impressions,

beneath  a wayward sun,

tremors that crawl

emotion burned nerves,

and within no hollow thrum,

with tug she guided

fold and rise

waves break over rocks

map has it’s relief

with tidal surge,

shudder and compression,

the moment when the sea becomes

translucent,

and memory of this voyage

imprinted overwriting

others lesser and shorted

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bourbon flavored font’s

two glasses unwashed

sat upended fragile in their shine,

opened bourbon

a long mouthful held then swallowed

his bourbon her breakfast,

moving from one room to another

morning cool on skin

she wore only panties,

typewriter on oak

bold keys hold promise

again it was his

the cat shared moved onto lap

as sitting down,

chatter of keys as poetry flowed,

to him she was a disposable muse,

she did not care

being on all fours

fucked from behind

staring at cotton bed linen

her mind could think

without his face ,

all he needed was the mirror to pose,

weave of cotton held a story

as she thought of next poem

he too had release,

it was a kind of love,

they used each other in

different ways