IOWA
muse aubade for mine – this was
when you laughed – hysterically
that night – it was the perfect place
to end – the muse of mine
you were – where I am left
now – I must piss which
escapes my mind – since
worn – walkways
line one – milk box
from the next – heavy route
towards becoming – believably
barely believable – even polished
to bare – minimums
under articles – your loin
cloth – barely covers
your covering – warm
hands – warming still
your golden disc – really flares up
iowa's highest tide – your expectant
voice – tears
as it turns – everything
purple – even blue
was purple – it was really
weird – every minute
of our eighty hour day – a finch
on a branch – being subjective
in two minutes – of heaven
instead – what sucked
is history – your song
on the subject – blew minds
while nailing men down – just keep on nailing
all those nails – then go chew
your own nails – down
in the corner – to the quick
history you have – looking only
on numbers – caring less how
long lived – longing living
is what is – never enough
assurances – but consider
this right now – may be
you – given your goodbye
but first – let me nurse
your overstressed – hermaphroditic bud
blooming in late summer – the caw calls
for a fall fast – they built a subway
exactly where – our tent was
last minute – in Iowa
I had assumed – it was dawn
several times – it became obvious
it was dusk – time to push
hard manly – "ya well bite me"
before a feminized – "ya your insensitive
prick...hmpfff" – crosses arms
legs lips shift – slightest evidence
forming – a long line
of circles – in unison
repeating some – from former selves
before the crust of earth – became some
dime store dinner ware – your blood spills
at the slightest twitch – of one follicle
your pupils flutter – even without light
much less gravity – in the front seat
could you please – be more
interesting – you ask
regarding – other points
of interest – which was but fortune
sweet lass...hmm – how touching
you wearing – on your bare skin
these patterns – even imperfection
can yield – fortunes
upon fortunes – of agelessness
your laugh – a river of gold
however early – it was
~lds06
4 comments:
A strange and fascinating one to read. Seemed like an unusual merging of the voices of Robert Creeley and Emily Dickinson -- Dickinson's careful considering rhythm, and Creeley's halting, hesitant voice. Enjoyed reading this.
lyle,
thanks! although it the basic narrative voice (if you could call it that) is masculine... ...but i was conscious of my approach to soften that some... ...so that is encouraging to me. thanks for the note!
luc
It felt like an argument with yourself -- very interesting. I like the title for this one as IOWA.
d.
yes,
IOWA is a much better title.
thanks didi.
~
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