22 March 2010

untitled 3162010100, for a.w.

I don't want to play dress-up
in my beautiful skin & now behind
powdered teeth

I am wailing for happiness
see, already under a shroud
so why bisect with a tie

Or stomp out the sun with the false curl of a hat
why the heels, toes cut out
not waiting, wailing

Nothing done with a smile nor easily
nude practicality & little wisps of Whitman
collapsing alveoli, alluvial grapes, still on vines

Strangle around a skirt I will not entertain
will not entertain its baroque desire to drool
to widen here, elongate there, draw their upon-me eyes

Kneeward & beyond to where. Part of me

replanting each grape
refilling the grave

To impress you
though that share is small
the more substantial stock

Only wants to raise myself.

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