fictive beat

W/O/M/A/N
gone into abstraction
gitane smoke before the rain,
cello case velvet interior
soft and firm

W/O/M/A/N
breasts and silk once seen on canvas
could not concede to his kisses
or arch of bow
he had to wander

W/O/M/A/N
no more companion
than those strings he manipulated
with fingers callused,
she will not tremor

W/O/M/A/N
as absent as the background
waiting for a taxi,
rain effective conduit
to her misery,
he sheltered the cello
with umbrella
heading to a jazz club

W/O/M/A/N
is the beat
is the tender thrum,
a cello’s true heart
and poets calling,
absinthe and kisses
parted stocking thighs
he had found another
W/O/M/A/N

Musician in the Rain by Robert Doisneau

 

 

Vivitar Super 8 1967

Vivitar Time Magazine 1967

 

an advert from Vivitar that blatantly used sexuality and a woman to sell a camera that essentially filmed family events , or is it aimed at the amateur porn director giving inspiration to that motel masterpiece, click and whirr desire consumed in the lens committed to celluloid , as functional as the machine but not of cold plastic and metal flesh , flesh that is human with emotion, fantasy fueled Time male readers will engage slipping into a 30 second fantasy and buy the machine success for machinery and woman for sale sold.

love gone beserk

isolation makes me jump
into the shredding propeller of her tongue
it was Hi 8 and stereo record player
and a sense we belonged,
wiping nose on my hand
then on those jeans strained and faded,
we could make it work maybe,
her nightgown had buttons
linear nipples of distraction,
i would run
if it where not the seventeenth floor
and no closer to heaven,
her voice slowed quicker
than the snow outside,
are we done
gun still pressed in my back waistband
you look done
i  felt battered beyond the cut over eye
and bloodied nose,
the projects would have heroes
i was not one of them,
failing to hold up the store
girl cashier
younger
faded blonde dye and dark roots,
i spoke and connected,
pulled a flower from the bunches
sold cheaply at the desk
and gave it to her,
a startling explosion
as manager hit me with a piece of wood,
i ran
never said goodbye
but i know who
i wanted now

http://dversepoets.com/

Man Ray – Lee Miller

Man Ray Lee Miller

la danse et l’intervention passionnée

there was no deity in her toes

or mystical magic,

brazen eccentricity,

alcohol infused depravity

clung like smoke

that became exhausted on breath,

the morbid look of reality

as being human is to dance

bare splayed white thigh flesh

promise of midnight feast

fulgent in face

he wished to grasp her now

be away upon a tram

tearing worsted tights

patched with careful hand

lamplit ombres chinoises

concavity of upturned behind

receiving wild attention,

she has him as a pale

pierrot languishing on soft words

and gentle caress

having seen the kaleidoscope

and been within pink basket

away with shallow shadows

to find his way home,

naked on sheets tugged and messed

alone

internal orchestra played on

stood upon her rug

once vibrant

and danced again

for herself this time,

watched only by flickering

wax candles

toulouse lautrec

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

dVersePoets

orchards of rockland maine 1892

fruit of pomona

yielding to reach and touch ,

never to be split between friends and lovers

that homer once wrote of them,

slight tug separation from tree

a tree that would outlive the fingers

among the branches,

each gathered in wicker basket

green and red flesh perfumed

one of softer flesh skin slipped off

pulled open juice spilled nested in pulp

not seed but foetal form,

an emerging conterpart who would grow

in truth,

licking away textured pale pulp revealing all

form grew and writhed,

this was nothing that pliny had written of or the

romans seen yet she knew,

as a woman in her warm spelt bosom,

the coming thunder was starting with overlaid clouds

to raise it’s crescendo,

female foetus of of rockland maine

with mind akin would grow so well,

her fingers had known degas face,

eyes seen the waves of suppression ,

in this basket another voice grew

oil impressionism

captured scene milhaud tones

creation and completion

the veritable truth,

that fruit of pomona spoke so well

no more a planet of empty milk and bread

in the spirit of the gods

many would red lip sacrifice

banner to trumpet call

it was settled now

Noam Chomsky Vs Michel Foucalt (1971)

Infinite Reaches

a blade ground in salt

could not excise,

the growth of pain felt

swollen sea consumed dunes

natural barrier evasive

in it’s collapse

grass spikes protect,

she had been there

falling to the white edge,

now soaked

clutching at her stomach

that pouch beneath

with life partially formed

his sperm connective

by movement,

a moment taken

a decisive act

that had a consequence

now she wanted it away

wanting the sea to enter her

as it would a caves lagoon

swirl and wash debris away,

that was at first

now struggled away from

tidal grip,

hair a black concealment

falling over face wet

so her lips found salt,

beneath the raucous gulls

her imagined cell phone rang,

he would be there

the other not,

complex tissue entwined

by emotional forces,

it would remain inside her

till that time to emerge

to suckle on darkened nipple,

stretch marks illustrate

the act of betrayal

a map of satisfaction

that went further

together borne out of this,

cold prickled

her skin blotching red

shoes lost

slipped silent over sand

to a pavement lot,

car doors still open

once a water grave marker

now transport to a home

that would smell different

 

Boxers

incruental strokes

gave wonder to the moment,

before the aggression

and vapid crowd cheer,

two men took stance,

fists curled paused,

love and honor

to be protected,

each did not have

such rage in his eyes,

feeding off the crowd,

emotion dissolved

into silence,

shuffling feet

they moved untouched

hearts beating at alternate

rates,

stepping back

mouths once held tight

loosened,

a smile more ironic

than hate,

one moved to the other

hooked his arm about

his neck,

they both loved her,

and it was to her

in all her sun bloomed glory,

that would choose