I awoke this morn'
with sunlight traces of hope
upon the  tiles in my foyer,
like wonderous stories
told upon
the future's worries
winter storms return
go away all away in the
bright shimmerings
on the castle walls
the beams of light
call the zephyrs of hope
into my den
my parlor
my boudoir
under my cover
of hiding
no mores

CONJECTURL AMBIT

      
The earliest thought- I was a blind rock: mineral feeling of an uncut idol, my pressed wings induce a false sleep. I don't trust me as part of a building because my frozen nerves are still related to ****** business and my stability depends on old things' roots. Like a snail in the memory's spiral I make slow circles in a Levantine tower, living places are overlapping to form an upright native land, a growing mirror with all my moments in a wintery evangelical succession, annular heads raising from a well where peoples' liquid mind mix. I can hardly bear it, wearing fancy clothes I try to cover the mythological Meat, the inhuman side of the flesh, the anatomic stains. Drinking tea I clean my conscience, oh, lovely furniture and fine art objects, do you realize that I'm completely happy in your  abstract presence? Do you realize that you keep my eternity in precious fragile eggs? You bloom at the end of the matter, you touch the other sky, the brown heavy sky polished by silvery cats-indefinite slippery  ideas about beauty, the intimate effort of a deeply ploughed woman in order to cicatrize herself. The meadow's malachite door is open, I can see the primary glaucos mass of terrible friends, butterfly marrow, the  viscous veins of raw angels, my negative steps under the ruined house, our unforgettable bodies swimming in the magma. So, I'm a resting beast   between fish and bird, nothing is totally seen or totally heard, this light Protection, the transparent humanism is the only glamour of the organism

you were born in Denver
during a white out blizzard

like all round babes,
you had no clue, what was in store for you
you couldn't have known...

you would be
the last nickel to ***** through
a five-cent coin phone box,
in El Paso, Texas

or that you would sleep
for a year in a piggy bank,
of a boy named Felipe, who would die
of white blood cancer, before
he could spend you

and who would have thought
you would be in the linty pocket
of a serial murderer named Ray, when
he was captured in Santa Fe, a sunny day
on the ancient square, stalking
his next victim

a jailer used you that very night
with a twin of yours he found in
another picked pocket, of a drunk drifter,
to buy a Hershey's bar, from a machine
that would have taken a dime as well

your face began to show the fingered
signs of age by the time the choppers found sky  
above the Saigon Embassy, where you had spent
an aching April night in the Ambassador's pants

when you turned a half century, you were tossed
into a gallon jug, e pluribus unum, no more special
than others a third your vintage

I finally met you today, only because chance landed you on
the top of the heap, waiting to be saved from further folly

tell me something
at the end of the summer
how we've spent days
for the warm shadow of jasmine

I'm dumb in common
separated from home
one of the worst romans
in the way of his own

deceit and demise
narcissism and mice
went rumble and bumble
went crimble and crumble

for months now my body’s been clean-

but i’m itching to make it scream-

to make it pay-to make it cry-

since i can’t seem- to make my eyes.

my blurryface- he wanders-he flirts-

i know that he feeds-off of my hurt

-i’m falling through the bleeding trapdoor-

and i don’t know if i can do this anymore.

i wish my march was over and i could go-

to that angry place down below-

at least- then- the earth and the sky-

would not be blotted by my life.

you can protest-and you can persist-

you can tell me i’m not worthless-

but no matter-what you say- i’ll still believe-

the universe- it would be better- without me.