<!>
inspired by a conversation with Maira Kalman


******* a name, adopt a persona, let my fingers do the talking,
place the instrumental sharp point tip upon the blankety blank paper,
maestro baton raised, coordinating,
the first sound, the vocal chords trembling,  
the first thought, the ultrasound image, entrance of a first violin,
coalescing into, into the initializing single primary phonation,
the stinging geometry of chance at last,
throwing  down the gauntlet, glove slapping, and the
tendons tense, the mouth opens, release and indentation,
a letter's curvature, a black and white downward stroking,
a sign is televised, revealed and released

a one way only sign

time bends knee, gravity suspended, terror morphs to
expelling rapid firefights of imagery needy for spacing,
even pauses mid-word  leave just this:

where is the in in
intimate?

are you the in in
inmate,
or the jailor at the gate?

you swear never again

until committing once more,

a sentence commutation, by committing a first sentence,

and the greater toll taken and paid for,

and the in in in-nate,
questions your sanity

happily


<•>

9/17/17 10:55pm

2am Friends

winter has set the boundage, bars of chill, escape-urge killers,
self-imprisoned by our ruthless timidity, that both comforts yet,
worse violates our truthful, unwanted inadmissible-neediness by
purging the touches and the knowing kindage, this then,
this preface, your reminding of-as-of-yet untouched,
half-invitational, half-regret, half-cursed, whole red need for
2am friends
to fill the void that poems can n’ere fill

1/1/18

at the point of entry (explicit)

it does not strike me strange
at the point of entry
when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge

when the lust and the sweat intersect
with ego desire and self is everlasting everything
that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue

when I pant poems born in rawness and tears
on this the last day of the year
and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire
and the Maker whispers in both ears see!

it is the see of what is me,
it is the point of entry and departure,
one and the same,
conception an immaculate mess,
the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises
are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into
actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems
are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright
and the death of publication,
my moment of privileged perfection passes
and frowns and smiles are
one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut

the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing

the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic,
rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give

I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders
say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle:

come, come inside me,
I am the pleasure
you are the treasure
in one cup measured
conjoined container
when the point of entry is the point of departure
and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer
I see everything all at the same time, uttering:

I am undone utterly and the difference between
the end and the beginning can be seen only
at the millisecond long seven decade coming
point of entry

12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning