so many women~poets have I loved
*my occupation undisguised,
my intentions opaque~opposite,
my profession, lover
they,
most know, some suspect, a few clueless,
despite clear sky mountains of hints,
fastest currents of verbal affection*
*you scoff, think me old~poet~foolish,
know my loving has taken me to
every continent,
subway & metro, English gardens, Canadian planted fields,
my offers of shoulders, gentlest hands,
accepted and kindly re~fused, but still,
yet loved*
*grasping their words, parsing their phrases,
uncovering their remorse and spiced joys,
their gains, and losses, shared conjoined
the curl of a hair lock, the shape of the eye…*
*entrapment by poems of enticing whimsy delicious,
for it is in the well of their poems that my love*,
born, thrived, drowned and died
*something in the way they wrote, delicacies
plucked and ****** me in, the insight inside scraps
of life glories and sadness proffered,
that I loved,
broke me*
*oh fool, oh fool, how dare you cross the Styx
river~boundary of common sense, allowing hope to infect,
phantasies and poems inspired, conspired, died?*
so
much more to tell, but nothing herein to be consummated,
I loved them with a purposed seriousness of imagination,
and only write this today after years of adventures,
because I no more…possess the powerful skills of
imagining loving*
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 2:41 PM UTC
so many women~poets have I loved
*my occupation undisguised,
my intentions opaque~opposite,
my profession, lover
they,
most know, some suspect, a few clueless,
despite clear sky mountains of hints,
fastest currents of verbal affection*
*you scoff, think me old~poet~foolish,
know my loving has taken me to
every continent,
subway & metro, English gardens, Canadian planted fields,
my offers of shoulders, gentlest hands,
accepted and kindly re~fused, but still,
yet loved*
*grasping their words, parsing their phrases,
uncovering their remorse and spiced joys,
their gains, and losses, shared conjoined
the curl of a hair lock, the shape of the eye…*
*entrapment by poems of enticing whimsy delicious,
for it is in the well of their poems that my love*,
born, thrived, drowned and died
*something in the way they wrote, delicacies
plucked and ****** me in, the insight inside scraps
of life glories and sadness proffered,
that I loved,
broke me*
*oh fool, oh fool, how dare you cross the Styx
river~boundary of common sense, allowing hope to infect,
phantasies and poems inspired, conspired, died?*
so
much more to tell, but nothing herein to be consummated,
I loved them with a purposed seriousness of imagination,
and only write this today after years of adventures,
because I no more…possess the powerful skills of
imagining loving*
early April 2023
NYC
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