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B Wasserman Aug 2016
The gleams
that bloom from
the boundaries of your
feet to the altitude of your hair
their glow multiplies in
soft husks of your beauty
though you possess
no pearls
though you are not as
apathetic as silver
you grow as the crops grow
wealthy in surplus
you stand as a monarch
majestic beside them
as ****** bread rises
so do you
I must confess
my lust
remains locked
below in the reserves
of the earth
the black waves
eager to meet
the combustion of a
I desire your tender
body of bread for which
I consecrate and devour
your wheat is born of the morning strands of light
whose anthems sings
as loud and high as  factories

fire instructed you
how to trust both your instinct and
your blood
you learned well of your holiness
from flour and from bread
lastly you learned
how to clearly
admit your desire even
to your heart
B Wasserman Aug 2016
Even if by your glances
you were not the pale
specter of the moon
complete with
a whole day's
industry and fire
even if you were frozen
in the air and did not move
at all like the air
even if you lacked
the splendor of an hour
no the splendor of a week
for why it is like
the very flash that
contaminates the
and trees with autumn
you, who I behold with
all my reverence
how could you doubt
my love so
when I embrace you
I embrace an entirety
of vastness
for all of you lives
and persists through me
and sustains me
endures within
and through out me
From Neruda's Hundred Love Sonnets
B Wasserman Aug 2016
chase me
to an uncharted land
marooned, I wander
compounded by pain
and madness
no roses for me
only thorns to bandage
my festering wounds
chase me as if I were rattling
on the verge of death
and all but one eye
was blind to my dying
I heard you mutter
chase me as though you
had purged all but
one lust from
your habits
those black geysers
gush from the deep habits
of the earth and
in my mouth I relish
wine and conflagrations
of both blood and carnage
both terrestrial and burnt
from Neruda's Hundred Love Sonnets
B Wasserman Aug 2016
Boiling in wells
down deep
and low
my hunger waits
as a lion growing teeth
nobody knows how
I ache to burn
if so
they would be
well acquainted with
you may push back the cliffs
and raise armies
sharp and miserable
what will you gain
what will you prove
besides that
my bones thirst
for violence?
B Wasserman Aug 2016
Back in the crooked
alleys I only see pain
bricks and races
seven guns
three chased
four chasing
three men split rank
stolen money from
a city bank
in the well of the midnight hour
our lungs heaved and run
hands on our four guns
robbers hid and multiplied
like reflections
on a screen
false corner
false colors
one man drops
like dead wings
from a dead fly
bled out on the alley
with his future bled dry
and his bones still warm
chases resumed
some shots amplified
in municiple dens
too late
too late
another good man gone
now at the docks
where the ocean lends weight
shooting across the stiff planks
the robber holds his purse
a shot lands fatal
in my partners chest
the robber sped and gone
B Wasserman Aug 2016
I left and lept
into fires deranged and
deranged I found the flames
refused me
I was anxious for acceptance
beside visions of smoke
and dream
ships that would crawl
like antlers
like crowns sleeping heavily
upon vagrant kings
I throw myself to hazard
and hazardly grow
into abject places
Is such a sacred time forbidden to me?
Why does the song sing so short
for the words fail as rain does
when evicted bitterly from the clouds
heavily I wail my eyes and arms
distraught there is
less art
less violence
B Wasserman Aug 2016
Remember the old mill
set against the reflections
of flowers dancing in the waves
waves that have now since gone
I'm still ravenous but alas
you cannot bottle the moments
of the past
the bows that shouts
your name drills dangerous
and far into paths of the old forest
and sweeps like an owl around my heart
recall how the shades roamed sharp
and fast as horses
and the light bred and mingled
sweet as honey upon
our skin and lips
those days are forgotten
and pale to an immensity of forest
no stretch of sky may bear the
tale long
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