>> Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Oh, there are other lovers,
scandalously talented than you,
their unashamed display of superior airs
are consistently awarded
with my favored times.
Un-heavenly morsels, ever-fucked
possessing no wisdom on
crucial contours of anatomy, who
contemplate tricky peaks and skirts
as just a series of wrinkled uplifts
on a flat plane.
They flip pebbles into cosmic waters
to observe the turmoil that ensues
hunting for sex as if for a vortex
to drown themselves in
And in searching for them
I am of the same heedless spirit.
Ruminating by the light of moon
bright enough to give configuration
to aspects and intersections below
I render the void I want.
I entreat perspectives, not an indication
for probable fields of fire, no line
or shading, no subtlety or fidelity
no interest in panorama yonder
its starkest strategic features.
In this dark windless region
beyond atmosphere, it appears
moon could lead me astray
there would be steering
and propulsion mechanism
surely for use
once that is in place,
sentiments safe from meteorites,
in their rugged sheathing,
the moon could be chased down easily
through dead reckoning.