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breathlessher slender hand locked
in my hair drags me into
shining eyes and crushing
kisses;the haunting flavor
of her lips robs me of words
Nichrysalis
Mind mineFor god’s sake, don’t say what you’re thinking.
49ers panning for gold a few decades too late
A few centuries, a few failures, a few serpents
In the garden: cart up your nuggets of wisdom
And the surveyor scoffs at a barrow of mud.
And maybe it’s good exercise but the mystics
Call it what it is: smut and unrighteousness
On my mind all day long.
Virtue is named in the negative.
Neti, neti. Not this.
Not me, not us, not this life in the dust.
Definition through evasion:
Run the numbers and call it hope.
After all, more dirt in my bucket
Means more gold to strike tomorrow.
Speculate. Dance around it,
Cover the ark of the covenant,
Cart it around bound in leather,
But never, in thought, word, or deed,
Twenty-six letters or two dirt-encrusted hands,
Touch the ikon, the golden fruit,
The fossilized forbidden tree.
Truth is not tangible.
Uzzah died, struck by the divine spark.
Truth is (im)probable: A slamming door,
A flame that bites grimy fingers.
Swear a
spoems
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