***** Attacked by a Jaguar, after Henri Rousseau*
Unaware, arms sway.
Attentive green gazes
at a tuxedoed man
and his broken bride.
Pink perfume glides
over the jade scene.
A red disco light
hovers above raised limbs,
spinning stardust
rain down upon them.
In the corner
he hides -- peering
around fibre-optic
shrubs. Blackening
this white moment.
On the ballroom
floor they dance.
Rendezvous in the Forest, after Henri Rousseau
In the wilderness
they meet, horsebacked,
whispering nothing
sweet, meaningless.
Captain courts, seeking
victory beneath bare
branches... hidden
where all can see.
Curious trees bend
to view the scene below.
The lady's palace
chaperones her mistress
from faraway brush.
Antiqued cotton tufts frown
overhead, lost souls
driving by wreckage.
Vultures. Scavengers
of hunting season.
Pausing to behold
the carnage
of predator and prey.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:25 PM UTC
My lipless
silver teeth, icicles,
a hundred tiny razors
on a hungry blade
biting away
at my fleshy meal;
playing a
grotesque form
of tic-tac-toe;
with whom?
Does it matter?
Not really; only for
this bite, I live;
the copper
complements
my own metallic flavor;
the accidental
slip, or not
so much...
A wince. I mark
my final X,
two jagged
red lines;
in triumph, I drink
my sweet
merlot; a toast,
to my opponent,
my partner;
we have both won.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:08 PM UTC
Five leaves cup a tender flower,
petals layered over petals; deep
inside, seedlings not yet conceived
are protected by the blanket
of crimson velvet, reminiscent
of a vellux quilt: Perfection
that begs to be touched.
A sharp needle in the finger;
and a deep red liquid blossoms.
The same color grows from stem
and wound. The edges of the silken
petals curl back. Red matures,
rusts to black, breaking up --
What has happened?
You scissored the stem, changed
the water each day, crushed
the aspirin, just like Grandma said;
still, the last petals are floating
to the ground; the leaves droop
over the cracked glass table:
Only the thorns remain.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:07 PM UTC
Pebble
Cascade, return!
refreshing lover;
your winter breath
gushed over me,
rushed to polish
my sharp rocky skirt --
to strand me, pumiced
on the thirsting shore.
Stream
Pearlheart, stale,
peppered gravel;
ruling over you
I roared, transforming;
you ignored my
blurred stare:
never in my icy bed
did I hold you alone.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:06 PM UTC
1 Iron-bodied, you stand giant;
a thousand feet into the air, rigid
metal swaying in the wind.
2 Neck-breaking,
3 Sears Tower -- world-reflecting, glass-paned --
eclipses you, yet pales in your shadow.
4 Your ironwork: murky, camouflage brown
in the daylight, beautiful only by the twinkling dusk.
5 Prostrated, the multitudes hope to ascend,
flashes melding with the hourly light show --
6 Capture the splendor across the city!
7 L'Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Elysee, Notre Dame, ...
8 Euros squandered in trite gift shops,
9 -- Attention les pickpockets! --
10 Key chains, pens, 4 by 6 postcards...
Miss you loads. Wish you were here.
11 I climbed you. And now? 12 I watch
from Trocadero; fountains alive, illusions in place
but observed from afar, removed; 13 Apart
from the greedy, flocking masses.
14 One day, you will fall, and with you
the congregations that kneel before you
to wait in the line of impatient,
shoving, babbling, 15 Hallelujah tourists.
16 And when your feral echoes
fade to rubble on the crucified pelouse,
17 We at the grand marble square
will blink and miss it and wonder:
18 Were you ever there at all?
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:04 PM UTC