A little sensuality to combat carelessness.


I was wondering all day today what to post up here. I thought of writing a new poem, but the semi maudlin (yet sober) nostalgic and stressed out situation I’m in this week will only lend itself to lines such as “Oh, Love, if you only knew” and “This deep pit of despair, oh world how I detest you” type sentences so I best shut it.

Then I thought, dig deep into the poetry vaults in the recess of the laptop and find something you havent published yet. I am lazy and not super excited at prospect. I may just decide to do so at the end of this so not poetic blog. Wait, it will get better I promise.

Then, out of the purple horizon of this ether, an email arrives that has a wonderful little quote, from Kierkegaard’s diary. I decided thatthey would be the words I share today. I apologize for mine being so dry, exuberance of emotion is very much under control and I am as tight lipped as an old prune.

Here it is:

“Oh, can I really believe the poet’s tales, that when one first sees the object of one’s love, one imagines one has seen her long ago, that all love, like all knowledge, is remembrance, that love too has its prophecies in the individual. … it seems to me that I should have to possess the beauty of all girls in order to draw out a beauty equal to yours; that I should have to circumnavigate the world in order to find the place I lack and which the deepest mystery of my whole being points towards, and at the next moment you are so near to me, filling my spirit so powerfully that I am transfigured for myself, and feel that it’s good to be here….Will I find what I am seeking here in this world, will I experience the conclusion of all my life’s eccentric premises, will I fold you in my arms…Have you gone on ahead, you, my longing, transfigured, do you beckon to me from another world? O, I will throw everything away in order to become light enough to follow you.”

Ok, now I will look for an old poem for you, anonymous folks.

Fine, here is one to combat the listlessness of this post. And to further comment on the beauty and longing in the above excerpt. Thank you for sending it to me, you know who you are.




You sleep in lands molten

and I shiver

and I shiver

all through numb tips and heat receding


little strokes of your body invade these spaces mountains deserts airplanes and skyscrapers

dinners cocktails bedrooms and pillows and hot showers

and smoke and drink and dance and laughter

and walks

and transvestites

and Brooklyn

and my luminous sister

and talks

such colored buildings my eyes painted a prism

and good good friends

and embarrassment


and gold and silver and full moons over the hidden lake

trees that wail stories

ocean beachfronts and their freaks,

two headed turtles and my butterfly garden in a city of angels,

these flat expanses of my torso

whistled melodies in spicy fumes

vapor braided into my curls that sing

of this southern border I slam my heart into

these red orange heights speaking of some sort of god

or goddess

we don’t believe in

copper valleys all around me,

and we don’t love each other

and you sleep,

so far so far away from this altar

layers of fire in my footsteps

I remember

there are brown moments as pregnant as soil

there is your form entwined with my shattered expanses, a frenzy

of motion in an embrace,


and there have been arms



encircled a wanton tree in my waist,

tresses a vine of incense to haunt you,

noisy private chatter till we bubbled into each other, more

more than that

there were pauses

a whiff of silence in the dark,

I may still shine in little corners of your bedtime, your nights

mystery, a maze, a tangle

of absence in mornings

when I don’t want to think of you

rising in time zones of languages different

and we don’t speak the same words

any more


but your lips are still perfectly shaped

and smile sometimes

in sleep

and I,

I know

just where you are in lands molten,

a fragment of your dreams perhaps in my palm,

breath surrounds you

this violation of your reclined body, distant,

courses sin through my


I shiver


I shiver


I shiver


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