in all my fire of human becoming
I wear the lovely weather
of shibboleths
on my forehead

I feel the earth breathe
still....warm
trees
bearded in winter

the spruce dreams of the palm

the sage dreams of soft peach

the tree of unspeakable life
waves a nest of thorns
in its arms

I rest my head
meadowed in sleep
on the slope
of a burning rock

* * *

every amulet has a sex

the winged emerald is my woman's body

her gentle green tears are shadowed
in my blood

as I write into her
I lay there
like the other room
the sound of water
coming down
nearby
rivers of blue hair
press my hands
against her
a future
like a kiss reclining
nude in the orange wind

* * *

under april moons
a fine rain
anoints my canary
machinery

I eat the fruits promised to autumn

I am speaking from the heart

you have it in the holes of your eyes

songes trickle your name setting off..................residua
for the thousand cities
interred in my soul......................................discorda

desiderata illumines suicided stares.................rhomboid
in the boudoir mirror
..........................................................caterwaul
outrances swim in the dampness
of my brain............................................laughsick

in silver weather I fly
powerfully through silence
full sail
clipsing handsome jewels
in my beak
trailing blue vapors

always on infinite shelving
of ledges...the words
get whited out
as like make me tired
as not

-Dave Brinks

previous || next ->