Cadmium

herbs and spices, cont -

push mongo

herbs and spices

the colour wheel

A Red Nebula

I thought of one girl's dress
with her red legs migrating beneath it
(Alouette, gentille Alouette)
friendless but hoping for chances
her tanned shoulders, bony like a fish
making solitude of her body's architecture
a white firmament that holds stars in the form of
freckles that smear her cheeks and arms
the pink smile of her tan lines are vacuous
(Alouette, je te plumerai)
her feathers are bland and unhappy
dead too young, or before her time
everything has come to sleep in her eyes
the dress is continuous
there is no nudity beneath
her breasts
her thigh
they are the curve of mortality
receding forever in the universe

there is no want in my mouth
or hunger in my finger tips
I'm not in pain - I don't ache
my hands don't itch or shake
but my throat is dry
and I feel like turning you on

s. Sparling

prisoner of mars

the old world

'

master of hands of stars and nudists

the lady is taming a snake

she is charming a magic snake

arms - milk white - sumptuous

body like a blue electric arc

dancing with the eel

she is immune to the bone tooth

impervious to god venom

and a black lace layer of lingerie 

space black and revealing

cloys to her rolls of flesh

making a whispering curtain

between the white cloud of breast

and the yellow serpent coil

master of hands with tulips and roses

king of kaleidoscope puddles

why would you ever allow it?

have you been struck blind by arrows?

or do you see and choose not to move

or can you not move?

master of hands and nicks and scratches

the snake has struck her heart

she never bleeds but her eyes

turn blank as an april's sun

and the snake reveals its belly and dies

and the lady reveals her smile and dies

master of hands you've witnessed all

but your joints are sluggish and sleeping

what will it take to shake you

another lady?

another snake?

S. Sparling

sweet marie

cloud on the tracks

 

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

 I

 Among twenty snowy mountains,

 The only moving thing

 Was the eye of the blackbird.

 II

 I was of three minds,

 Like a tree

 In which there are three blackbirds.

 III

 The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.

 It was a small part of the pantomime.

 IV

 A man and a woman

 Are one.

 A man and a woman and a blackbird

 Are one.

 V

 I do not know which to prefer,

 The beauty of inflections

 Or the beauty of innuendoes,

 The blackbird whistling

 Or just after.

 VI

 Icicles filled the long window

 With barbaric glass.

 The shadow of the blackbird

 Crossed it, to and fro.

 The mood

 Traced in the shadow

 An indecipherable cause.

 VII

 O thin men of Haddam,

 Why do you imagine golden birds?

 Do you not see how the blackbird

 Walks around the feet

 Of the women about you?

 VIII

 I know noble accents

 And lucid, inescapable rhythms;

 But I know, too,

 That the blackbird is involved

 In what I know.

 IX

 When the blackbird flew out of sight,

 It marked the edge

 Of one of many circles.

 X

 At the sight of blackbirds

 Flying in a green light,

 Even the bawds of euphony

 Would cry out sharply.

 XI

 He rode over Connecticut

 In a glass coach.

 Once, a fear pierced him,

 In that he mistook

 The shadow of his equipage

 For blackbirds.

 XII

 The river is moving.

 The blackbird must be flying.

 XIII

 It was evening all afternoon.

 It was snowing

 And it was going to snow.

 The blackbird sat

 In the cedar-limbs.

W. Stevens

Juicy juicy Juicy juicy