I put a spell on you

On the Road (Adventure Trip Series) 56 x 42 cm - mixed media

THE BODY, THE VOICE, THE PHANTOM TOUCH

                                                                         “Gudrun lay wide awake,

                                                           destroyed into perfect consciousness.”

                                                                                  D.H. Lawrence, “Women in Love.”                      

It was her body that carried you off like an ambulance.

Left you feeling hollow and full at the same time,  

the heat of your nerves maxed out, melting down

the mind to its ultimate core—not like Gudrun,

but rebirthed in imperfect unconsciousness—a long look

deep into his eyes got it started. The body’s embellishments,

its choreography and subterranean fragrance

did the rest.

For the first time in your life you move through

the world as if a malign deity had her hands around your heart,

squeezing until the pressure’s intolerable,

necessary, a beautiful anfractuous annihilation. In 

such a moment you are not the subject of this poem, you  

are the poem. Sonata of raw need; thousand page 

suburban blockbuster; break-dance of the reckless heart.

The Passing

Im dunklen, dunklen Wald - In the dark, dark Forest 30 x 24 cm

THE PASSING

Significant

others fall away like chaff,

like confetti

in a party’s aftermath.

Always have. Maybe you miss

the ambiguity of their smiles, the pinpoint accuracy

of their charm. Or maybe not. Nonetheless 

it does seem unjust that we have to 

bite the dust, cash in our chips, or

as the Germans put it, lay down the spoon, just

one more ego, fat with fantasy, consigned to the void.

Some wish that instead of kicking they could just go away   

for a while then return to their lives refreshed, even enhanced,

as after a few weeks in a Tibetan monastery, or

a single night in some plush bordello of the Belle Epoch.

Think of the expense. A  crowd gathering  

itself together like the remnants

of a lost tribe, clamoring for food and drink.

All of that attention gone to waste.

A stranger in Birkenstocks reading from

the HOLY BIBLE—is there any other kind? Evidently he

prefereth the King James Version. Still, the exit is plainly marked.

 Nina Simone - My baby just cares for me