Let the music play

If we could put it to music
it would be your fingers
on my fine tunes,

my lyrics
finding you
in chords that could not exist
before this night.

We choose staying in,
underneath a thick haze
of purple and green.
Your eyes try to match me;
our deepest rhythms
sinking,
flowing,
dancing

naturally. We slip back –
your tongue laced with black
magic –
and I,

knee deep in daydream,
wrapped up in
this dimension,
several chords playing,
all of them in key.

Gripping to the cadence,
dripping with luxury,
we summon our past lives

we consult the angels
of mercy

and forgive every sinner
who ever has sinned.

This is our music.
Saturday night flat –
my bottle of Jack,
your smoke gliding
down my deep
throat

Like clockwork
here we go.

Sagittarius A

Ten thousand light years from Orion’s Arm,
my eye is naked and
distinguished. Your small satellite orbits
my dark regions with aim.

I am uninhabitable with my gas,
and dust, and hot stars
spiraling in mass distribution.
Call me Sagittarius A….

and I will call you instable,
with your fictional planets
swaying with indefinite motion,

your thick Dwarf Elliptical
cancels out my Galaxy
over and
over again.

Old Books And She

I entered her
last night. Through parted limbs, then
parted.
Forehead.
Chest.
Hard back books watching.
We wrote a story for them.

I told her that I never saw them
read. The ancient people.
I bore holes in their heads while
they
bailed strong hay fields
and
branded our hamburger.
They could remove sexual organs
by blood asphyxiation,
dry fruit in plastic air,
grow meat in sloppy hog mud,
they did it.
They did everything with books
but listen to their stories.

She came down from composition.
Pink panties, black casual,
laughing
about my pork fields and grease.

One day, we will be ancient. Will the books
remember us?
Will we be decorated in hard backs? 

We laid, backs hard on thin, white sheets.
Skinny lips impressing lit
cigarettes, kissed wet from
brick liquid.
We drank for the moon we remembered.
The pale one that danced with
us
before we lost the Others.
The brunettes.
The scrappers.
The pretty little foster kids.

5am lost the luster. So, we stopped.
I chose blue for my tears, and left.
She chose white sheets
sprinkled with biography.

An Accidental Abortion

The snow concealed the ground around me
as I reached inside and
clutched for the new
soul
flourishing.

My clutch turned into
a grip of uneasiness as the
new soul did not
reach his hand back for mine.

In a trepidation, I froze…my hand came
back to me covered
in blood….red body
fluid trickled down my leg, speckling
the snow – warming the frozen
blanket and
revealing the solid ground below.

Blood so bright in the snow, soaked brown
in the dirt. Blending the colors, ignorant to the
trace of the
part of life it just consumed.

I screamed at the ground!
How dare it soak up
the little
flourishing soul
as if it was nothing! A piece of
my very own soul!!

Not a word of gratitude or comfort from the
dirt for the forfeiture of
my nurturing body!