Monday, February 02, 2009

poem in progress 2

as one side of my life rises
wide and bowlegged
nose up in and to the rarefied
of freedom fear fucking and what's fair
the side that would have tomb-ed the beast and bird
mouths itself open
and curses the ground

i have always been at my own mercy
swept up or torn out
by a cacophony of myself
that never stood quiet to wait
for the fully formed thought to state
who i was
i have always not known and just been
it has always not worked for me

peripheries are empoverishments
of the imagined nations
of weak kings and as i am slave
spatially incongruent all the time
so that i may give
as much stretch as birthing the new day requires

now mother i bore
my deferred taste for war
while undercover agent protecting my cub
i secretly served to learn a taste
for the lion's share
of freedom fear fucking and what's fair
as the new century's babelonia writes itself blank
its dark-ink people stand at attention
uninterested as ever in attempts to forget
that before we gave paper we gave fire

like a skywalker
in light saber six inch heels
i run at both ends towards the same
in battle my death wish is strong
but my life slips something in her drink
life gets death drunk
fucks her leaves her to moan
they two in their morning sheets
soak in not knowing who the other is
knowing such verdicts are more breath than tongue
to their last kiss
the valkyrie's cue to knock