For Rembrandt, love of my life.

Rimbaud,
were you next door
with Verlaine
or in a bar
or in a church
when the tables
were turned by
an invisible hand
against us
my heart was snatched
from our star
& stuffed down
a chimney stack
full of eyes &
knock knocking
on a door & a cry
as a pistol shot
rang out in sepia
do you believe
in women made of paper
folded into dancers
for suit-clad spiders
by doses of poison
if so hold this song
between your fingers
say a prayer
or just curse science
or the shadows
of a trashed childhood
any in memoriam
will do right now
when I still love you.

Here are berries, leaves, twigs and blossoms fair,
And here, my heart that for you alone beats.
Clasp it in your pale hands and please do not tear,
But see it as a gift, to your pretty eyes sweet.

I come to you covered with dew and sap,
Which the morning’s wind freezes on my forehead.
Bear me, in my fatigue, to lie in your lap,
Dreaming of pleasures to restore me from the dead

On your young ***** let my head rest,
My body still sated with your last kiss;
Let my mind dwindle after such a tempest
And I’ll sleep a little beside you in bliss.

First Evening (Première Soirée)**


Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
Half ****, she clasped her hands.
Her feet trembled on the floor,
As soft as they could be.

I watched as a ray of pale light,
Trapped in the tree outside,
Danced from her mouth
To her breast, like a fly on a flower.

I kissed her delicate ankles.
She had a soft, brusque laugh
That broke into shining crystals -
A pretty little laugh.

Her feet ducked under her chemise;
"Will you please stop it!…"
But I laughed at her cries -
I knew she really liked it.

Her eye trembled beneath my lips;
They closed at my touch.
Her head went back; she cried:
"Oh, really! That's too much!

"My dear, I'm warning you…"
I stopped her protest with a kiss
And she laughed, low -
A laugh that wanted more than this…

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Tepid summer nights and
     holes in the soles of your feet.
Holes in your wrists, no?
Soft fluttering of dusted eyelashes and
     the pale pink of morning sun as you turn your cheek.
Blushing like a schoolgirl, no?
***** fingertips on dirtied skin and
     toothy smiles, moth-eaten pillowcases, stale whispers.
*'Pour susurrer des mots doux', non?

stupid living boys
     and their hummingbird hearts.
stupid dead boys
     and their lingering stares.
supermarket polaroids,
     cold apartment poetry,
faded glassy eyes,
     ***** fingernails.

O! sweet Angel;
cherub; seraph; beautiful nymph,
cradle the night in
delicate French hands,
bend it to match your invisible
words, your intangible sentences.

You have the most beautiful face
in Europe, did you know that?

The eyes, vacant and holy;
the mouth, tender and rose-shaped;
the nose, delicate like veneer;

the twilight black and white
plays off the intelligence
in your face
and howls out mad words,
brilliant words, works
of art.

We are a breed
trapped in your silken
and desolate stare,

forever to study you and
scrutinize you, your fiendish ways,
your rambunctious poetries--

your poetries are published
in Heaven, did you know that?

They are made of glass and I am
afraid that my hands may
crush them when
I bring my fingers across
newly-printed pages.

My own poetries are so *******,
demonic; Enoch smiles
in the land of the dead and
prepares them for printing.

My own nature is so bland,
so ritualistic, so uninteresting;
I am not a ***,
I am not a rebel,
I am not a drug fiend;
I am a student
playing at being an anarchist.

But your lice-infested sheets
are gone and burned.

Your lover's hand,
now decayed beneath the French earth.

The ***** dens of Paris,
the absinthe dens of Paris,
seem to be gone.

You would not enjoy it here
anymore.

I hope I find you in Heaven,
for you have the most angelic
face in Heaven--
the clouds pale next to you,
the cherubs with their trumpets
turn away and weep.

I hope I find you in Heaven,
for we have a lot to teach
one another.