|
"Guatamala"
the connection was tenuous
like her head to her neck
her
inimitable reflections
stood out, what the heck
and though mirrors crack
when left unattended
the silken image of
her soul
was easily mended
© D'Agate - July - 1996
"A Note"
you chew my dick, it tastes like wood
you chewed again, it felt like
iron felt
so deeper you went in, phosophorus to magnesium
but
stopped at limestone and licked licking
liking my hard, dead
form
erect, supreme, supine in a field
until you felt the Sun
noticed you licking
my dick and I lapping your cunt
in a field you
noticed
the Sun feeling you notice
and you though I may have felt
you
notice.
© D'Agate March 1997
"An Unrequited Yearning"
and will the wind
still whistle throught the treetops
naked
branches
now that you and I are gone
Sadly I must say,
that
you were never there
Beneath the cruel and glaring mooon's
attempt
to cominate the blue-black sky
But I will hear the chattering wood
from the place where I sit down to rest
forever, beneath the
blue-black sky,
And thought the cold I do not feel
the colors of
the night will complement
my moods of Desolation...
while the
trees grow silent
waiting only for the reckless zephyrs
to disturb
those reveries
because the breeze will not be chained
as I once
was
to your love.
© April 29th, 1997
"Hackensack"
the trains I used to see
are golden, red and rusty
like my
shadow
walking through the wild, mean
sidebeds
of the railroad
tracks in Hackensack
I remember the hagged stones of my youth
and
the summers of my soul
now, I am many stones
and my soul is many
people
one smooth, others rough
when I die
I will once again
be one
and my shadow
will once again
be Golden
© April 1997
"4 Jimmy Dog"
(after a fellow poet's
immoloation)
When you've seen the ashes of your dreams
and when you've gasped
your last
When you forgive the intimate thing
that you, yourself
have become
Then shall you have trod
the ashes
underfoot
"Can You dig?"
Can you dig yourself across the street?
do you dig the people that
you meet?
and is goodness just another pill
of life's trite story?
Are you hopeful clinging to the rocks
the salty surf that knots
your locks
then dribbles down into your mouth
Such poison makes me dream of ships
I struggle while my fingers
slip
then drift away to softer shores
© Fall 1995
"She Gives Me Small Things"
She gives me small things
so I am able to make small results;
If she gave me a forest
what would I return to her?
sawdust or
tapestry?
No, I would give her sight
If she gave me blood
a
prism and Madagascar
would be the result;
I do not mind the mirror
of Medusa, I am a god
If she gave me bread
for her there would
be Time
and fine linen
and she would know the lonliness
of
Man, the great Sailor
© Spring 1996
| 