by Michael Tod Edgerton || Author's Links
A Note From Underground
I tell you solemnly that I have wanted to make an insect of myself many times.
How the blood hunts down the heart wants
only to pool like the twilight over the green blade of day.
How the wind rustles the whispers.
The whispering blades do they say something to you?
Do you recognize the sounds they make? Let me tell you
how they prick only your flesh and ignore your wish.
Take only the lavish tongue and forsake its hush.
How the slash of blue remains
closed to you, its saltstorm of clouds their insatiable thirst.
By all accounts, you may think it a cruel world. Let me tell you
how the wanderlust of mountains
bites into the clouds for a covetous taste,
how the ambering hills pale
beneath the sun's incessantly smiling face.
Everywhere else ever greening.
Ever keening. Let me tell you.
The whispers the whispers the whispers are buzzing
too loudly or too softly in your ear? In your hair, now they
harry your lips, your liver, they're in your liver, don't you know.
Try not to panic.
Don't dare scream.
My Name Is Rose Is R
What are you whispering What? name--
Seeking sensation shivers
You a mist showering
faint sweet scent
Dried roses, sweet sweaty brow
A twittering mist musters, up flexes, into a semblance
Assemblage of syntaxing, another, sentencing another outstretched
Taking up a string of propositions, rehearses rehearse
The form or elation of syntagmata which
Might gel if knotted solidifies fluent
gesture undulations inflects
The line the whispering about little redheads cocked
Catch tale of it-do-all the gossip
Chattering each other up indecently
Excluding you from their ranks their rank
Subject these brittle bones these
Shadow of their form or self--What are you whispering?
Your wanting shout cannot
Find the words.
But roses are only roses only
You tell you try yourself.
Yes, but they're smirking there's something.
The man he sent them curiously absent
From the scene? Set to understated design.
Heads bent all around look
All contorted all distraught or are they
Bent on looks bent giddy bent at see.
Just A Wink Or Two, Twinkle Toes
I miss you already hello you roll away cold to claim
sole your aim your own side pulling the sheep the sleep up over you and me
Me misses yours never more kisses yours slappy play
full chide O dreadful child!
pushing my limits
the push that delimits my skin
pushing back your holding
cuffs scruffling my flesh ruffling folding it
pocketful of starry sighs
wherein you lie you try oh-so to
trouble me double me make me a promising little might
a pouncing maybe joy tonight
but aim right you must your fairy dust your lusty gaze and straight through the haze
of the tight strung light.
I wanted you to be real to reel.
It got me I did my wish.
It got me I knew it not not long enough to prove it not along the bank of you
long enough to move it no rooting toil no nesting in to test the soil against
my split harried theory of you boy of your existence.
So allow me to I do I try this moment momentum this luxury suite of you
tease the seize of you silly little sneeze of you in two
my size into my breathless blue prize wising up and coming true through.
you reeled you did you peeled away
the day you did straight into the fray a tryst a twist and right into Ray.
I missed you from the beginning the winning first toss at last lost of you
somewhere in the fold of me and we at sea squared and everybody pared
somewhere in the cold cooking up looking to get some lime light a little
white lie a little silk grown time or some plain old shut-eye.
Figure and Landscape
chill through a window stared down from across the room
the room opening into a mirror on the other side
in which you sit on a sofa beneath the window
into which you stare stained ice blue at sky
second skin no first
second skin no first cause
no primary color only original sin
only expulsion and the trembling figs
only winter no spring all naked limbs
only the slow accumulation of something like dust
something not unlike lust a thin coat of flesh only ice
it will not melt it just might break
you want it to melt you don't know how to swim
you want it to melt you can't look at it long enough
invertebrate desire over the stillness to fall through
can't see the ice for the nakedness don't look too hard
can't see the flesh for the cold it might just break
look long look hard look look
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