The Realized thinks:
flesh and the blood demands
you spew your stuff in me,
deny me nothing
even as I am sleep full,
thy cravings grow fuller, not fewer
craven not I,
to demand my satisfaction in the
rendering of yours
for you are of my flesh eaten
for you are of my blood tasted
tho the universe placed a spatial divide,
an atmosphere tween our celestial bodies,
t'is a temporary condition,
you are but moon slivered,
man half if not just quartered,
less than whole,
when disjointed and not inside
the incontestable undivided me of us
the Other Seductress
easy teases with adagios and pinprick words,
offering lifelong immortalityΒ Β -
words like fish in nets,
loaves of bread,
that will
fill souls with insight long after
the physic man's grave site location forgotten
your muse, she bemuses:
I can make
you come and
make you
go
multiples of multiples nightly,
ripping your word seeds from your body
the pleasure insane, your mind enflamed
even now in the air above this planet your earth,
I am your mile high and river deep,
you belong to me and spill the verbal deeds,
your art is mastery more than
any physical sweating
of blood and sweat or tears
the other laughs and counterclaims
that all that is promised is but a mere secondary
derivative of who you are when you
whisper excitedly I love you
and this belongs
to me and no other!
where is your immortality better scribed
when your issue is woven in the tissue
of two, for you are only one when realized
your self conception nightly reborn in me
it is I that feeds your eyes,
your vision delights in me and thereby
you give birth to the art that makes
Who You Are
who you are,
for all clear all unconfused when
your soul stiffens and a single truth
are your emboldened by, and that
truth is real and is my temple
where carnal is incarnate
and you reincarnated in every way
the long haired and ever young muse
in ire arises and finger pointing a j'accuse,
says I am your eternity, the self same
that you existence demands be satisfied
only I, only I,
can provide the living will
that will exclude the black and the worm of ignominy,
place your time shopped physicality
in a state of perfect preserved beauty,
I am the mother of thy art,
the if of thy futured existence proofed,
I, thy future and the
***** that makes you beg
more, more and gives the birthing to all
your multiplicities,
never questioning, receiving all,
the good, the bad, the psalm, the ditty, the prayer,
loving best the most
ordinary
*whom did he choose
whom does he choose,
whom will he choose,
the tenses answer all
and in all,Β lies the answer
On the descent into LaGuardia
