Speak to me with your naughty tone,
Take me to that place,
Where all your nouns and all your verbs,
Are fingertips that trace...

Around my wants, desires, needs,
My secrets seldom shared,
Trace my lips with your adjectives,
My tongue with your savoir faire...

Let your words graze my breasts,
Fondle me with your phrase,
Speak them down my stomach,
Lead them through my maze...

Move them lower, let them roam,
My rounded hips and softest thighs,
Stoke the fire of my lust,
And receive the ultimate prize...

Silent thoughts, no more speaking,
Hushed moans and quiet weeps remain,
Giving of ourselves completely,
We become whole once again.

have
to write
a story

pourquoi est-ce que quand on me dit d'écrire une histoire, je ne peux pas le faire?

twisting twisty-like twisters is all
I can
come up
   with


....Maybe the Triangular Prison, Bermuda Triangle?

Anyway...

sky
deep
  blue

dove
...framed
     above

and then



...the sky falls



......again

Nourris ta misère & je ferai pareil

Me faire gonfler sous cette peau douce

Prendre du plaisir dans la douleur : le Paradoxe

Au moins que ça remplit ce vide saccagé

Au moins qu’il mangeait des fleurs

Ces Fleurs du Mal et de la mélancolie

Comme rien n’est laid lorsque l’on ignore la Beauté

Quel qu’unes
Me dis
Que ton nom c’est come un belle chanson

Mais a moi
C’est plus comme revenir aux maison.

Tes yeux fragiles
Me regarde comme un roi
Le seul personne qui peut t’aidé

Mais je sais
Il n’y a rien que je pouvais faire

My Liberal pal, named Sunny,
And I were quite the pair.
He was redistributionist
while I was laissez faire.
We always argued politics-
about welfare or day care.
Each was convinced the other
was deluded past repair.

“We are our brother’s keeper!
On poverty, make war!”
I said poverty was winning
if he’d bother to keep score.
And so it went, as time was spent
Until one night in Queens
When I espied a beggar
looking frail, quite pale and lean.
“Sunny, quick, give me a buck.”
as our car approached the light
I quickly rolled my window down-
I think it made her night.
“It’s sure fun being liberal!”
I said to my pal, Sunny.
“It’s pleasant being generous
with other people’s money.”
Published today 11.03

à 3h du matin, en double milieu,
mi-chemin entre le jour & la nuit

mais tes mains sont déjà sur moi
& nous ne sommes qu’au vestiaire
qu’est-ce que t’es chaude ce soir

descendons au tréfonds du terrier
allez, on va prendre un verre,
allez, on va s’égarer un peu,

dans le flou, parmi toutes ces créatures,
qui n’ont jamais connu ce soif inassouvi
celui qui brûle & pousse & crie à haute voix

ça me plait comment tu danses,
comment tu te relâches & comment
tu laisses la musique t’avaler entière

un peu comme ces mains cherchent
à me faire là, pressées à trouver
des miettes de sentiments bien faux

allez, on va aller aux toilettes,
pour discuter tout ce que tu veux,
& rejoindre la fameuse Dame Blanche

puis, on va aller danser sur la piste
où je te montrerai ce corps fragile
& tout dont il est capable à détruire

ce morceau est hypnotique, autant qu’un poème,
mes hanches te crachent le message,

celui que tu n’entends pas de toute façon

allez, viens on va fumer à l’étage mais
tu parles trop vite cherchant à fouiller ta chair,
un vide-grenier nocturne de ton esprit

les trémoussements de tes mains solides,
font une résistance contre l’aube, disant
genre, je m’en fou, c’est juste que…



je te veux

english translation

3 am, in double milieu,
halfway between day & night

but your hands are already on me
& we’re only just now checking our coats
you’re clearly feeling hot tonight

reaching the depths of the rabbit’s hole
“come, let’s go get a drink”
“come, let’s go lose ourselves a bit”

in the crowd, amongst all these creatures
who’ve never known this never-ending thirst
the one that burns, pushes & cries aloud

i like it how you dance
how you release yourself & how
you let the music swallow you whole

a bit like those hands are looking
to do to me, hurried to find
crumbles of terribly false feelings

"come, let’s go to the bathroom”
& talk about anything you’d like
& meet up with Snow white

then, let’s go dance on the floor
where I’ll show you this delicate body
& everything it’s capable of destroying

this song is hypnotic, as much as a poem,
my hips spit to you the message
the one you don’t hear anyways

“come, let’s go smoke upstairs” but
you’re talking too fast, trying to dig up your skin
a nocturnal emptying out of your spirit

the fidgeting of your strong hands
creates a resistance against dawn, saying,
something like, “I don’t give a damn, it’s just that..”

“I want you”

I took my love to Talby Faire
And there, the world seemed right
  To cut the chill that knit the air
  She clothed herself in white

Her gown, appearing linen
A silken symphony to touch
  Although the night was bleeding out
  In us there was no rush

My jacket was a tattered swatch
Some dead man's wife's donation
  Acquired many years ago
  When I was not so cold and thin

Her perfume made a different muse
At the neck and at the wrist-
  I'm sorry but I'd rather there be rope
  On both, with scent betwixt

And as the night, that pale blue mage
Worked magic over Talby Strait
  I wandered toward the bannered stage
  The bone white moon had made

And on the wood, three skeletons
All gentlemen, prepared,
  Took to the task of violins
  And music made they there

And in that din I lost her-
She's a stranger now to me
  I'm left to bow my violin
  And wail to Talby's eaves

I took my love to Talby Faire
We hardly knew each other then- 
  Strange music that the moon allowed
  Has made us strangers once again


                                     - Brian Bigley

Mark of Cain in my hemoglobin, i'm more open to repast on brains.
to dine on flesh enmeshed in baseball parks and homes restrained
by greed of the same. and the cry of the people takes great pains
to refine the message of a blank stare. a blemish, stark with catacombs
disarranged in harm honey. the ogre of pine. the amber pane
where we bleed. we name nameless, by the by,
to the finish.
but not
alone.

up your petticoat with my blind cleaver. my Occam razor to your stain.
a fine mess express in hateful art and boneless jade
we feed on the frame of our reference. skylarking harmonious curves dismayed
by their own mind. they confess it. at the statefair. replenished, they knish in falderal
disengaged from honesty. the poker blind. where the eye staid.
where we need. we need most ... tell ya why.....
to diminish
but not
atone.

and so it goes. i erode the continent. sneaky pete in the crease of all strange.
itchy feet. maimed in false lies of the ripple. made fake
to real love. unclaimed. a gangly part of broken promises made
we retreat at last. with our last mimes. we undress. with savoir faire. distinguished in our dashery
ill fated. calamity's bark. hard to define. where the mind misbehaved.
we're complete most where the hole resides...
to imprison
but not
hold.