HEADED

HEADED

I am going
to seduce you
with the poetry
of Pablo Neruda

read his words so
sensuously
that they melt on you
in you
like hot chocolate
like warm butter

Ah, yes I see
you do feel it
your breasts feel it
as it drips downward
it is the
space between
your legs

where
it is headed
Oh, the surreal sexuality of
these lines

has left you
mouthing sweet
nothings
swaying to the rhythm

a firestorm of cantos
now headed your way
hard
to imagine
what you will feel like

Inca goddess in the arms
of a god

did you ever conceive of such joy
battering you with the power of a hurricane.

WITHIN

WITHIN

I am snake
slithering laboratory of
state of the art chemistry

my poison
kills you

my venom
cures
and heals

I wrap myself around you
have a crush on you
start constricting (commence
the procedure)

meld with you
share
skin with you

teach you this beautiful language
of forked tongue.

LEFT RIGHT LEFT

LEFT RIGHT LEFT

right brain
left brain
right

my tongue
floating between
one and
the other

finding your seam
following vector Tango, Charlie

found the point of maximum connectivity
quickly did
my thing
got it stitched and sealed

all dualities at this point brought into a conjunction so sonnet sweet

MORNING STAR

MORNING STAR

opened my eyes
but you had
disappeared

one moment here,
the next, gone

or so I thought
until I saw the room
bathed in light, suffused
in gold
my lover
in her natural goddess form,
divine shape
not for normal, mortal eyes,

but either
being half-blind or
being a sort-of poet, clear my Morning
Evening Star
showing her true self by
teasing, taunting,
special dispensation

the visual spectrum destined sadly to
be a barrier between us by
virtue of the distance
between our natures

but not the sense of
touch
such a beautiful leveler, that
best of faculties

her mouth her lips her fingers
teaching me how
this
all this
to transcend

MANY TIMES BEFORE

MANY TIMES BEFORE

Have aircrashed myself
many times before

treat my whole life
as a simulator

lost count
of how often
been shot down flying
over your bed, skimming
your spread out body
preparing
for landing
all systems go
undercarriage lowered

so much flak
as if our difference
breaking. law
of the cosmos
a matter of such gravity,
apocalyptic concern

that what so
polar in difference
so deeply attract

each
conjunction
hastening the end of
a world fixed
in opposition
earth to
ground our air
water to
quench our fire

and yet this
is the magnetism
no
force in the Universe dare
try to deflect

SEMINAL

SEMINAL

I witnessed the birth of Aphrodite

correction:
I was
there in person, in a dream
moment she was born

or a few moments later,
if you are asking for exactness

drowning in an sea of
Olympian goo

woke up
moment before I
went under forever

my last
dream glimpse
being
of the tail
end
of her

as she shapeshifted between
the various shapes and types and
cultures and sizes
of mortal beauty as
she flirted with
her disguises

before ascending a simple
spiral stone staircase
that mythology
will tell us
was twenty-four carat,
jewel-encrusted

and yet
it seemed that the vision
was a kind
of blessing
a confirmation

of her absolute acceptance
of my love for you

POINT ON IT

POINT ON IT

Ah, my alien
love

beloved alien
(hypothetically speaking)

our atoms entangled
since first inflation

need to figure out
possible constellations, configurations
interspecies craft
manoeuvres, docking
procedures

not to
indulge in discourse over fanciful,
relentlessly unscientific
(at a stretch)

or to put too fine
an obscene point on it.

SALTY POEM

SALTY POEM

Don’t be coy
that’s a salty
stew you cooking

naked in the kitchen
high
heeled

and only pregnant
in the sense
of
all the crazy
possibilities
running through my head

we
about to
give birth to.

RIGHT TRACK

RIGHT TRACK

want to
have to
need to

make you my woman
if it takes twenty scenes
if it takes five acts

in the Henry
Ford factory
could
production
line you

fill you
fix you
via
every
conceivable machine

talking mill, lathe
drill,
talking press hydraulic

like the one Sarah Connor
used to
squash the
first Terminator
bleed all that cybernetic
electric grace
out of his
ass

but the
future

just put him back together again

but that
too and fro frisson
between destruction and creation
grace and
(ahem!) copulation
is what
I have in mind, what quantums
out of nowhere into
actual existence

giving all our fuck-
frolicking
a
Bride of
Frankenstein Edge

our marriage
so consummated
the very epitome
of manufactured consent

salt of
the Earth stuff
but state
of the art electromagnetics

all
on track, with such
Houston Moon-orbit
Mars-landing
rocked ship confidence

yes,
the auguries are good: sent
my fingers
and tongue to test
them
taste-test them (sweet
and ever
so sacred)

everything on track here, everything on track
will trademark this entire process
and Ted talk
it someday

POCKET (OF RESISTANCE)

POCKET (OF
RESISTANCE)

is that
a thesaurus
in your pocket

or are
you

excited
thrilled
enraptured

totally sexually
flabbergasted
to
see
me

the way
you suddenly do?