Tuche & Automaton

Friday, October 27, 2006

Love Suicides a Parasol

Dense wet syllables
tear open lids falling
on thighs which embrace
water's imaginary

Clenching years in her teeth

Paradise incantation index locks
parting the night stars again

Wisps of hair suddenly lurch after
mossy labyrinths accustomed to obscure
the mere sight of jazz

Diabolic framing of tanned breasts
rupture shadows carried on the train

amber heralded by midnight

Tongues spray flesh-toned nodes of sleep
bodies signalling hubris forever

sweating pearls left in the sun too long

Langorously stroking ions passing time by
estimating the strenghth of passions
best left to azure baiting her jaw

Tracing the one-hundred year old orange softness
lifting the cries of desperate men to stone

To gently stroke muscled cords of a fractured air
and purple slabs of varying beauty

Molecules soar ivory scars to supine moaning below
swirling cusps singing love's rose to her legs
draped over humming blades of grass

Night watches the moon's rays transfigure
their entwined figures in the narrative of One

a butterfly floats into pyramids of icy water

Mantras match nature's colliding of pale flesh
calling several times to be rescued from limbo

Bone against bone
Spirit against Spirit

Deep hollow curls of laughter
peel astral frequencies to hand
a hot sky the keys to her
fierce affection

A stillness climbing to the roots of her bodice

covering a mirror with yellowed edges to her wound

To surrender a tranquil fastening of moist mouths
seeking the cross painted on sheets of prayer

She longs to watch her love glisten
on waves of nothing riding a blue prelude

His next appearance on howling gusts of wind

carries their divine equation past the ad infinitum

Protean thrusts finish breathless gasps outside
flourishes a virtual glossary left hanging
on single droplets invading ghostly bared chests

Possibilities for love tossed into the cyclone of open hearts

All dreamt in the shadowy flowers blooming
in the heat caressing her hidden garden


At 12:57 PM, Blogger Molly Bloom said...

Powerful and intense. 'water's imaginary

Clenching years in her teeth;

Great image!

At 11:40 AM, Blogger Molly Bloom said...

I was talking to someone about this poem this morning, whilst looking out onto a misty morning. I was saying that I really love the oblique texts which touch on something, which is essentially very physical and evocative like this. I was saying that I like it when you can imagine the senses coming into play and taking over the language. It is very hard to write about such acts without sounding clumsy...that's why I've come back to this piece again.

At 12:12 PM, Blogger Robert said...

thank you so much, Molly

im glad you got so much from the piece :)

At 1:01 PM, Blogger Molly Bloom said...

And again...


Post a Comment

<< Home