Spanish

   Yo hacía una divina labor, sobre la roca
Creciente del Orgullo. De la vida lejana,
Algún pétalo vívido me voló en la mañana,
Algún beso en la noche. Tenaz como una loca,
Sequía mi divina labor sobre la roca.

   Cuando tu voz que funde como sacra campana
En la nota celeste la vibración humana,
Tendió su lazo do oro al borde de tu boca;

  —Maravilloso nido del vértigo, tu boca!
Dos pétalos de rosa abrochando un abismo…—

Labor, labor de gloria, dolorosa y liviana;
¡Tela donde mi espíritu su fue tramando él mismo!
Tú quedas en la testa soberbia de la roca,

Y yo caigo, sin fin, en el sangriento abismo!


              English

I was at my divine labor, upon the rock
Swelling with Pride. From a distance,
At dawn, some bright petal came to me,
Some kiss in the night. Upon the rock,
Tenacious a madwoman, I clung to my work.

When your voice, like a sacred bell,
A celestial note with a human tremor,
Stretched its golden lasso from the edge of your mouth;

—Marvelous nest of vertigo, your mouth!
Two rose petals fastened to an abyss…—

Labor, labor of glory, painful and frivolous;
Fabric where my spirit went weaving herself!
You come to the arrogant head of the rock,

And I fall, without end, into the ****** abyss!

      These spiritual window-shoppers,
      who idly ask, 'How much is that?' Oh, I'm just looking.
      They handle a hundred items and put them down,
      shadows with no capital.

       What is spent is love and two eyes wet with weeping.
      But these walk into a shop,
      and their whole lives pass suddenly in that moment,
      in that shop.

       Where did you go? "Nowhere."
      What did you have to eat? "Nothing much."

       Even if you don't know what you want,
      buy something, to be part of the exchanging flow.

       Start a huge, foolish project,
      like Noah.

       It makes absolutely no difference
      what people think of you.

Today is a hollow day.
I am a shallow voice
in a tin cup.

I rattle and clang.

I am five copper pennies
wanting to add up to more
than a nickel.

Brother, can you spare some change?

Get your hand
off of my thigh,
it does not thrill me.

It makes me try to recall
the last time that I shaved.

But you seem less concerned
with the light fuzz
that could possibly be covering my thighs
and more interested in finding out whether or not I'm wearing a bra beneath this shirt.

I'm not.

But I'm leaving to go home
and shave
before you have the chance to find out.

What is want,
A craving or desire?
Consuming need
That sets the soul on fire?

To want is to wish
Though it may be greed,
To wish is to want
Or to be in need,

What is desire
Whether it be hers or his?
We may not know what we want
Or what want is,

Unrequited longing
That seems to smother,
We've all had it in some form
One way or another.

I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.

She cannot be any more for me.
Cannot touch, cannot see or know
What it would mean to lie beside her.
Below or above or inside her.
I cannot kiss her skin enough
To satisfy my tongue,
At root, amid tonsil and gum.
There is nothing between my legs
To satisfy the ache I’ve beshouldered.
Nor to give her what she wants.
And yet to be the bearer of such lofty arms,
I have not the strength
To hold her to me, tight enough
Nor strength to let her go.
Therefore pianist or organist,
No digits can so far reach
To abrade this itch within me.
To what worldly force there is to bray,
No hips move expeditiously
Enough to shake this wanting free
Not rhetoric, charm nor Rationale
Bestow words to dissuade my need.
I have no arms to pull her closely,
Nor shape to fit her skin.

Yet I cannot be any less for her.

The scratchy wood beneath my thighs,
My dangling feet invade the sky.
Our thirsty skin soaks melting drops
Of summer sunshine's afterthoughts.

Midnight moonshine in your eyes,
Reflections of the stars in mine.
Whispers from your plastic chair,
Words dissolved in velvet air.

Tied in never ending knots-
My tangled hair, and sleepy thoughts.
Of childhood, and love, and God,
Understood. One simple nod.
A spoken word, a laid back smile-
Care-free for just a little while.

An orchestra of cricket bugs.
My racing mind, your broken lungs.
******* smoke through sunburned lips
Summertime, tobacco drifts.
Clouds of humid nicotine-
hang and linger in-between.

Secrets waste away our time
That August night-

Just you and I.