Inoculate Conception

I should have poured you out of that brassy-broad evening dress
I should have examined every gist of you
before meiosis
now it’s too late

Why the Hell didn’t I?
I could have saved everyone a pocketful of therapy

Where did it come through?
fingers, eyes, lips, tooth, collarbone,
gesture, voice, breath, grin… such a sin…

Was it airborne?
must have been
Symptoms presented before the bodily fluids thing
What membrane failed me?
heart, mind, spirit, body
(Oh yeah, like I’m gonna consult the Goddess at a time like this!)
idiot… it was your brain, hello?
your brain… hello… h-e-l-l-o? It was your BRAIN!

Maybe I caught it smack dab: There
But, There is a moving target
There face, There décolleté encounters earlobe, the sweetest little flesh drop
There intelligence, There talent, There compassion, There surrender,
There raspy taunt/There childlike pause

Was it early on, the mails: eyes/finger tips?
I was rabid early on… ummm…

And,

That was after the kiss at the gala benefit… maybe…
we were spiffed, the room dazzled yet, spinning
we faced each other four hands/twenty fingers loose woven
you said you’d stay longer but your feet were killing you
i understand, me too… heels… “don’t you Enjoy Being A Girl?”
lipsticks fading
champagne breathing
garlanded hall/picked-over bites crumbling
schmaltzy piano
and then

The full-lipped miracle: eyes closed unusually long for a biz kiss
I guess that’s when
god, I feel sick

Descent Sideways

Resurrected from a briny grave
Plucked from a jagged beach as a flat stone to skip three times
Sinking
Further through the miasma underneath to settle
Stratified between eons eroding
eventually exposed
time does seek truth
The Earth pulls tight her cloak
Stretching it, tearing the seam
And finds me a fossil deposited on an alluvial plain
Character carbon-dates the soul

space without form is yet a place
the space of my room six floors above the street
is Always
even if the building
isn’t
i mean,
different molecules in the air, but the same place
and if the room is removed?
the same space without the room…
i guess
structure gone, open space:

After the fall I couldn’t get out of bed
Let alone fly
I obsessed 24-7
The requirement to have a lover in my life seemed basic
Essentially air and water
But,
A piece of peanut is stuck between my teeth
A tiny foil bag reads, Southwest
i’ll have a ginger ale please,
and could I have a coffee after - as well?
i know I’m flying economy, but could I?
The blue above with warm sun
Curdled milk clouds
Below a sonic wing
But,
My feet clammy cold
When I’m in heaven like this
I think
I desire kisses
I want them as much as I want the dry heat of the
red, flat rock plateau to loosen my skeleton
(when I’m fused in a foggy traffic jam)
But, I don’t need anyone anymore:
it is the discernment that neither flight nor destination
begin nor end a journey.

still
How I wish words would tumble out as fast as my falling
They could split from me as a parachute unwrapping
Bursting open to save me
Holding me aloft in the comfort of a dream
A sliding/A floating/A peaking
taking more air in than letting air out
A lofty orgasm
A slicing of the sheets
and then
A rapid descent
fast!
Hands on the wheel
Nonprofit radio jazz snagging me before I’m a bug ruined on the windshield

I love Nevada
You can drive near a 100 for 20 minutes on the best-paved roads in the country and not see a fucking person… not for fucking 20 minutes
You can smash a snake between tar and tire at 87 miles an hour,
the only serpent in the desert
But you can’t find a fucking person for shit
I hate the idea of it but I love the isolation, the heat, the isolation, the dust, the isolation, the horizon, the isolation, the big sky, the isolation, the dirt road disappearing from the highway across barren terrain leading up to a mysterious peak, the isolation, burning bushes, the isolation, the missile parked like a statue at the entrance to the testing ground, the isolation

I’m on the loneliest road and it’s the best party in years
For me
I’m having the most wonderful time
The only thing is that
I wish I had changed
out
Of my party dress
My thighs are sticking to Naugahyde in
This heat
Maybe in Utah I’ll change into my Annie Hall khakis
And flip Brigham Young the bird
As I fly by
hold the phone...
I see light!
up there...

My chest burns tight with wedged breath
I see the bottom of a rocking boat
I hear waves through shadowy waters striking its wooden hull
Sounding the block tic-tock of an orchestra percussion
I’m bubble darting toward unsteady guttering sun
About to break surface
i step back from the mirror to focus on the full eye
i touch up mascara
And,
See the pupil within.