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 Feb 2010 Sabrina DLT
Gabrielle F
your hand twists around
the milksoft steel of that long
slender stem
a vinyl blossom shelters
your head from godspit
your features are betrayed
by the watery spears

i know it is you
by the skin, white and pressed artfully against
the bones
the irises-
like a clever bouquet of
knives, glinting in
shattered city twilight

oh come here, draw blood
come here
apparition
trick of the
dampened light

kiss my wet face
with your wet mouth

let your lips slip across
my forehead.

if you come

i won’t say one more
word.
.I felt a little strangewith binoculars in handon a warmWednesday morning,a mild breezetussling your curtains.I watched you with aschoolboy fascinationas you tookyour clothes offof the clothesline.Oh! the basketful of storiesyou draggedin through your door.Were yougoing out dancing?To the store?Your prettiestdress sparkledin the sun's lightand it made me think.Yeah.That's what Ilike about you--You make methink..
I have no name
I am but two days old.—
What shall I call thee?
I happy am
Joy is my name.—
Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old.
Sweet joy I call thee;
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee.
 Feb 2010 Sabrina DLT
agdp
He plays a tune hand calloused and all.
Face against the blue filled with malice
Flashing a florescent blissful green
Changing all so lightly still

Leave him alone, sunset to sunrise
Pondering birth to death.

Crimes of our very own human dignity
Imprisoned, for our clawing entity.
Plays shadows beside this fluttering sail.
A pale veil that will bring us no avail to bail;

Light hearted the human soul is not.
Weight within ignorance and defiance
the mind is consumed by all reflection
bland or complex, life has no attention.

Stained glass windows, black widows
Rainless mornings, and frivolous sermons
Taken to the tortured girth of human doubt.
We are lightless and stationary only to run.

Along the shoreline, faith is not receding
Only seldom visited.
Replaced by the capture and rapture
Of virtually tangible lights;

News no longer plays homage to heart
Rather lies rampaging the feeble apart.
Pessimism parallels reality.
Rendering sin’s originality.

Our causes parallel pauses
Making these changes in duality
Deafening intrinsic viability,
only to expunge identity.

Looking back at the advertisements
Across the widely boarded stilts
Lit to view by admitting at will
Driving forward looking back still
7/27/07 © AGDP
skin the touch of liquid fire,
singeing through the soul's desire,

fingers run through satin hair,
afloat as angel wings on air,

eyes by which the stars are showered,
heart and mind are overpowered,

tears my soul and life apart,
this creature captivates my heart.
Nekatu Poetry © Arik Fletcher
(for Llewelyn)

This side of the truth,
You may not see, my son,
King of your blue eyes
In the blinding country of youth,
That all is undone,
Under the unminding skies,
Of innocence and guilt
Before you move to make
One gesture of the heart or head,
Is gathered and spilt
Into the winding dark
Like the dust of the dead.

Good and bad, two ways
Of moving about your death
By the grinding sea,
King of your heart in the blind days,
Blow away like breath,
Go crying through you and me
And the souls of all men
Into the innocent
Dark, and the guilty dark, and good
Death, and bad death, and then
In the last element
Fly like the stars' blood

Like the sun's tears,
Like the moon's seed, *******
And fire, the flying rant
Of the sky, king of your six years.
And the wicked wish,
Down the beginning of plants
And animals and birds,
Water and Light, the earth and sky,
Is cast before you move,
And all your deeds and words,
Each truth, each lie,
Die in unjudging love.
Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun,
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance as long as forever is.
796

Who Giants know, with lesser Men
Are incomplete, and shy—
For Greatness, that is ill at ease
In minor Company—

A Smaller, could not be perturbed—
The Summer Gnat displays—
Unconscious that his single Fleet
Do not comprise the skies—
XII

Indeed this very love which is my boast,
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
Doth crown me with a ruby large enow
To draw men’s eyes and prove the inner cost,—
This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,
I should not love withal, unless that thou
Hadst set me an example, shown me how,
When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,
And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak
Of love even, as a good thing of my own:
Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,
And placed it by thee on a golden throne,—
And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)
Is by thee only, whom I love alone.
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