The Breath of Life
"... and hold her / till she is awake again."
Eric Dutton's "Staying Married"
After church
we lie together on the narrow futon
and I am wrapped around you
like a thin tree snake holding a pregnant dove--
the look of peace in your eyes
is so gentle, your soul so clear that
the tears come to my eyes
again.
It must have been like this
the first time. It must have been
like this when the Preacher, standing
in the shallow waters, put his giant's
hand across your nose & mouth, and
lowered you into some rural southern
river. You looked up at him, through
the dark water, even though he said to "shut
your eyes" as he pushed you under.
When you were lifted up again, your
nipples were full and hard from
the cold water and the rush of blood
to the vital sacred parts, which washed
your sins away; and the rigor of mortality
transformed you into what you are today.
Your eyes are clear again.
The white shift you wear, for purity's sake,
is pushed up, just as my black shirt, belt &
pants are loose and twisted aside, so that
simple coitus is easy. It seems we have lain
this way for hours, maybe we have been
always joined this way as lovers.
You move, slightly, to show you are
ready again. Alert to your signal, my
body grows hard again inside you and
my righteous hand moves up to your face.
My left hand, beneath your head, wraps
itself in your long auburn hair and I brace
myself for the coming struggle. Your right arm
is pinioned helpless beneath my body and your left
is not strong enough to save you from what
is about to happen (and we both know
this already, from severe practice).
The scratches on my face prove this:
Death can be relentless in his love.
Your eyes have now gone hard & lost
the look of purity, and instead the gaze
of human lust has taken hold of your soul.
You must be punished this way,
again and again.
The missionary position seems
suited to this, for I am on a sacred mission
where my hard thrusts send you again and again
below the water's surface, like a witch
tied on a dunking pole. I sometimes feel
like a murderer pushing a corpse below
the water with a stick, as the dying
flesh gives way, again and again, to each
thrust of the stick.
My muscles, every sinew, goes hard
and taut, braced for this task. And your body
fights back against this cruel fate, the
ignorant lower reptilian brain struggles
for some tiny breath of life. The moments pass
and soon your eyes grow dim again, your voice
muffled from the struggle with my blunt hand.
Your body, wet with a cold sweat, goes
slack against my starched cotton shirt.
You feel dead against me, and the weakness
fills my eyes with tears for what is lost.
I remove my hand. Soon I feel the faint intake
of breath and the barely muffled sob.
As your eyes open again, I feel this
rush of joy, knowing that we will stay this
way forever. Yet, I do not leave you here
alone for more than a few days at a time
because I do not want you, desperate for absolution,
to try something like this without me.
Accidents happen. And sometimes
  without possibility of redemption.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Immense gains on frankfurt!
Recently I was invited to a reading of three
poets on three consecutive nights. Alice Fulton,
who has won numerous awards for her poetry
was the reader on the third night. After a
glowingly colorful introduction, Fulton launched into
her reading. I wish I could get that hour back.
As best I can tell, Fulton is a dictionary poet.
That means she takes the dictionary and looks
up words and then free associates to get her
verse (actually, she must use a philosophical
dictionary). I tried to write an actually parody
of her poetry, but the stuff is so empty that it
was hard to do that. So instead I’m creating
a “found poem” made up of text from emails.
This seems appropriate—text created by one
computer to fool another computer into thinking
that this is a real message. But it is, of course,
not a real message, but a simulation.
---------------------------------------------
Immense gains on frankfurt!
“the new moon is just a luminous zilch.”
Alice Fulton’s “Snow Kiln”
“If you will get banged
by your pennis with mistress?”
And they shall which he cometh with the ram for.
Then Afterward he would abound more of these chief, of the Lord that Died. Then came up to those who sought the words of God, It is unclean on all that ye therefore have dominion, The cave and aloes, and I thou and he hath given frozen: Higher. And sinful flesh that wicked children of Madon, and no peace and thou And the Lord grant you and wept sore broken brought unto thee neither Shall be not thou. And put their tents but O thou here we may write blessed is accomplished
No surprise that the signs of social fracture and growing dissatisfaction are plain to see. One in nine children is living with just one parent, relatives or a distant neighbour. Yet the sharp rift between left and right in France remains deep in the French psyche. Each day a child under the age of seven is abandoned in Moldova.
The result has been 25 years of meaningless hypocrisy. So at the moment there are 12 candidates, all of whom have won the written backing of 500 elected politicians in order to stand.
She has a small scrap of land where she grows vegetables to feed herself. Couple this with an economy that has been misfiring and it is easy to see why France is in such a deep hole, desperately looking for solutions. I often hear many negative comments about France and Europe. Who appeals most to ethnic minority voters? He was featured chatting, arguing at a factory gate with a couple of people and it worked as an engaging piece of TV.
I was channel-hopping when I came across a series of short, and quite snappy, party political broadcasts following one after the other. Mr Le Pen has rather simpler ideas on the far right - get rid of immigrants, and you get rid of the problem.
Laurie gave her a glance of filial respect and love as he replied. “you hate the thought of it?" said jack, as he was giving jill her early walk "oh, yes, pitch about like nutshells and when he couldn't have one sister he took the other, and was happy." nice to hide the scar on his forehead, eyes closed in spite of herself and she forgot where she was and fell among with satisfaction at the prospect before them.
¡¡i played at hot cockles, last petite redhaired girl banged two huge black cocks << tiny teen babe gets pounded !
poets on three consecutive nights. Alice Fulton,
who has won numerous awards for her poetry
was the reader on the third night. After a
glowingly colorful introduction, Fulton launched into
her reading. I wish I could get that hour back.
As best I can tell, Fulton is a dictionary poet.
That means she takes the dictionary and looks
up words and then free associates to get her
verse (actually, she must use a philosophical
dictionary). I tried to write an actually parody
of her poetry, but the stuff is so empty that it
was hard to do that. So instead I’m creating
a “found poem” made up of text from emails.
This seems appropriate—text created by one
computer to fool another computer into thinking
that this is a real message. But it is, of course,
not a real message, but a simulation.
---------------------------------------------
Immense gains on frankfurt!
“the new moon is just a luminous zilch.”
Alice Fulton’s “Snow Kiln”
“If you will get banged
by your pennis with mistress?”
And they shall which he cometh with the ram for.
Then Afterward he would abound more of these chief, of the Lord that Died. Then came up to those who sought the words of God, It is unclean on all that ye therefore have dominion, The cave and aloes, and I thou and he hath given frozen: Higher. And sinful flesh that wicked children of Madon, and no peace and thou And the Lord grant you and wept sore broken brought unto thee neither Shall be not thou. And put their tents but O thou here we may write blessed is accomplished
No surprise that the signs of social fracture and growing dissatisfaction are plain to see. One in nine children is living with just one parent, relatives or a distant neighbour. Yet the sharp rift between left and right in France remains deep in the French psyche. Each day a child under the age of seven is abandoned in Moldova.
The result has been 25 years of meaningless hypocrisy. So at the moment there are 12 candidates, all of whom have won the written backing of 500 elected politicians in order to stand.
She has a small scrap of land where she grows vegetables to feed herself. Couple this with an economy that has been misfiring and it is easy to see why France is in such a deep hole, desperately looking for solutions. I often hear many negative comments about France and Europe. Who appeals most to ethnic minority voters? He was featured chatting, arguing at a factory gate with a couple of people and it worked as an engaging piece of TV.
I was channel-hopping when I came across a series of short, and quite snappy, party political broadcasts following one after the other. Mr Le Pen has rather simpler ideas on the far right - get rid of immigrants, and you get rid of the problem.
Laurie gave her a glance of filial respect and love as he replied. “you hate the thought of it?" said jack, as he was giving jill her early walk "oh, yes, pitch about like nutshells and when he couldn't have one sister he took the other, and was happy." nice to hide the scar on his forehead, eyes closed in spite of herself and she forgot where she was and fell among with satisfaction at the prospect before them.
¡¡i played at hot cockles, last petite redhaired girl banged two huge black cocks << tiny teen babe gets pounded !
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