some things i'd like to share with you by esp (i like reading books txt) 📕

steps

wear a face
to cause
a riot

a beauty
to melt wax


dance the greenery


dance the greenery,
a fondness for that touch.
the night paints all things black
but sun sprayed
the world moults.

taste a smell like the young years
with the soft breath
of promise,
and the promise of promises kept.

it cannot be true
these things we see.
but somehow the senses
perceive the green,
the dreams we have
when we're awake.


star pity


talking in a corner
about christianism

(this is various parties
not entirely a retreat)

so, falcon
dawn bird
fallen angel

rock silence
or star pity?

no.

did i not create the sky?!


heather


her scottish grass
parts, through the winds influence

i spoke such filth
even the rocks withered
turned to lava
turned to love
running like a river to the sea

deny the crash of gravity's arrow
the mist of life's humidity

such strangeness in this stranger
and this strange activity

the smile lingers still
a pale and inverted rainbow
inherited from her


the end of all octobers


1) the garden gate
on windy tuesday
(windy monday/tuesday)
swinging

2) an out-doors dog
on runner-leash of limitless sadness
(sadness & regret)
pulling

3) that girl at sarah lawrence
shroudly silent
in pajamas of the future
(dead now, i'm certain)
spinning

4) sleep deprived
by all todayness
tattooed with nothing
on every arm
(plain & tired)
feeling

5) my work things
failures
hooked in
through capacitors of stone
(stone & bone & flesh)
in an ice boat
on a frozen sea
sinking

6) dying leaves
small brown suicides
(orange, brown & yellow)
falling

7) the short sun
growing shorter
(meet october's end)
& dying


dream of the dog in the window of the hardware store at 20th and pine


run


INSECTS I HAVE KNOWN


cicada

"rid yourself of the useless pieces; the flesh, the burden, your shell." the song from within his shifting armour (a structure perched and always waiting) the logos a tin machine gun tearing through trees and the thin grey morning . the face (above the pincers) holder of the gems the facets the eyes which witness several of me... but there are billions more of him

ant

"over there
is what i need"
a scrambling dash
the smell of family
and the promise of an evening
with the queen

cockroach

"you gonna eat that?"


wed in calumny

madness
forced the hand
of truth
and bore
a clarity
bereft of focus

genius
loosed the hounds of wrath
a razor to the roiling sea
that once was calm
(an infant's bath,
a song of spring
or safety)

and mated?
a top.
a storm
rotating downward
downward
down

and who is sire?
and who is sired?
chaste they move
the snake around the world
its tale on my tongue.

we listen for a new affliction.


shellfish


the felt
like a blanket
for the softest of places

a light tickle
(an enticement)
and my cheeks flush
the blush of flesh
and passion

soon i am sand
in an oyster

to work the pearl
the vaulted chambers
where sun is black
and black is light
and light is warm
and warm is good

and soon
she quakes

as when the lord
envied babel
she collapses
(pink)
with a whoosh
and a kiss


madness in a basket


pouring money
through my bloodstream
and my body breaks
down,
and the mass which remains
is only madness in a basket
and a fraudulent love... .

sad loom of life,
rue three, rue two...
[chimera's puzzles]
i've heard the same song
sung better;
its wings
fluttering
like an angel
in my cunt;
like a nervous malaise.

all life is brittle,
is a bastard
like its own son.
like attendance
in high school;
but no one says
"present."

the windowless faces
the souless floors
the saffron colored doorways
are the cruel face of daylight.

can i hold you
in my arms
like the ribs protect
a heart?

can i hold you like the night?
dark and safe
if you return

(romance of divine solitude... another passion victim)


my face


my face
the fluid features
of a schizophrenic
flowing with sleeplessness
in every mirror
to make a different visitor
i

in each surprise
a helpless lonely
in each imposter
incredulous
ashen
fearful and
different

my face
only mine in its proximity

to protect against virus
i wear this mask


love affair's last morning


after warm bubbles of shower
(chill morning)
hair parted down
to the grey dog-flesh
scrape the sad maturity
from my sad
and plentiful face

a think on the gifts of ex-lovers...
"am i a whore?"

closet open
no clothes are these colors
i will clash with my emotions
the people will stare

gravity down
some treacherous steps
"what am i going to do
when i'm fifty one
and still don't know
how to love anyone?"

the slow grey dressing
on a love affair's
last morning


blood


the taste
of blood
rides on my tongue
a copper raft
on saline seas

anchored in a tranquil cove
to spread its message
of metal and rust
through sensors that bear
not a scarlet trill
but the bitter savor
of high pitched musk

of mud
decay
iron
brown

the color of
my lying eyes
that show me red
when blood is steel

jesus


we all want the love
(like death)
that jesus had
when he was young

so kind
and forgiving
and geometrical
and sane
(but as the lord only knows
so temporary)

to find oneself
sacrificed
(rather than needing to sacrifice)
would be the warmest place
like flannel

where is my altar?
to offer my breast
full of hunger and
longing

such desire
in this beaten heart


plath cut up one


he feeds only on sad ideas

feels this
emphasis
like a place
bundled with string
and stones

but he is cold
a glorification
of the 'has-been'
white plastic aloof
an aluminum husband

suffer from this dual focus
one terrible trend into the forest

Imprint

Text: 2007 esp
Publication Date: 11-14-2008

All Rights Reserved