SUNSEX

I love the Sun
l o o o o o v i n g us
with perpetual patience
ever since the famous Day of Yes
"let there be . . ."
sworn on the Oath of Earth
so there was light
there was warmth
there was luvrise every morning
unfolding itself like a brilliant idea
of wings, wind and elegant physics

It prepareth for us, The Earth
a wet lush salad
days after evermore days
according to law
set by the regulatory authorities of YES
we emerged and merged and morphed
evolving and revolving and whirling
in a wonderful waltz of unwavering loyalty
to The Light.

I love the high noon lust
beams and boners of flaming excess
penetrating the breathing space
the prophylactic membrane of oxygen
so we all get naked
like blooming flowers
with dilating petals
glorious little wide-ons
in the great solarium
of multicolourfulism
where pollen is flower-cum
soaking the salad
with the frolic of fertility

I love the musky dusk
when the sun goes down on
the swooning wetness of great lakes
s l o w . . g o l d . . g l o w
scorching scattered clouds
and spreading an ululating carpet
drawing lovers dripping in dream
to walk towards it
into the closing scenes of novels and movies

I love it the more
when it goes
d e e e p
d
o
w
n
on Mother Earth
its descending forehead sweating scarlet
tongue flares receding into the calm softmess of afterglow
while the night sky
glistens with the delirious debris
of star splatter.

TO THE END OF YES

In the beginning there was the word
and the word was YES!
so I fucked her
I fucked her again
mornin’ noon & night
I fucked her
day after day
I fucked her
year in & year out
I fucked her
YES! YES! YES!
I fucked her
OUI! OUI! OUI!
I fucked her
SI! SI! SI!
I fucked her
DA! DA! DA!
I fucked her
in every tongue
from left to right in Poland
right to left in Persia
top to bottom in China
everywhichway in Klingon
I fucked her
affirmative action of the first disorder
she scented herself with YES tonight
I fucked her
in great mutual affirmation sessions
cum-sensual adults
every time she opened her legs
it was in the shape of YES
a very expletive undeleted YES.
She was YES to the very nucleus of her woman
She was my woman of want
She was my woman of want my vowels.
YES, she sucked vowels from me
Vowel-howling sound poetry
ecstasy poetry bouncing off the walls all covered in wet YES
I fucked her
YES! Aaaaaaaaaaa
I fucked her
YES! Eeeeeeeeeeee
I fucked her
YES! Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
I fucked her
YES! Oooooooooo
I fucked her
YES! Uuuuuuuuuu
I fucked her
in great gobs of gushing vowels
She loved the splatter of vowels
So I fucked her
with a mouthful of wet YES
my fundamentalist theology
exploded down her throat
To hell with the socialist sub-committee policy meeting tonight,
YES let’s fuck
To hell with lobbying for funds to feed crippled orphans
YES let’s fuck

I love how she gives good debate
turning onto her knees
to present the best part of her argument
like the good field beast she is
I’d rather plunge into the democrazy poetics of her cunt
than earn a living pro-actively in happy contrivanceland.
than a committee of global swarmers
She is my Al Gore rhythmn

And the decades go by
I fucked her
fucked her again
and again
it was all YES,
choirs of YES
chorusing down the hallways of YES.
Gospel YES, the G-spot
Soul YES Deep Soul
Classical YES Class Suckle
Rock YES & Roll YES
Decade after decade
The pension arrives
I fuck her on weekday afternoons
Sometimes right there
on the floor before the tv
in front of Oprah & Dr Phil

YES through the seasons

Then June 23, 2001
she whispered a soft italicized yes
into my better ear.
so I mounted her
and there was a breath of yes
followed by the de-conjunctiving ellipse . . .
So it was
in the end
there was the word
and the word was NO!

LEARNING TO UNLOVE LOVE

When I return alone home,
morning, afternoon, evening, night,
when ever
what ever
how ever

no one
. . . . . . is there . . . . ever
no one

silence undances with a skindeep shadow
reflected from an unsilvering memory.

I bed my brokenmess
cocooning the pillow
soft but unbreathing
yielding but unwarming
the unthreading remains of love
pulled up to my kissless lips
grow thinner
as night grows colder
as I turn
and curl
into a foetal question mark.

I Am Writing Letters

I am writing letters
from my primary residence
on the Island of Alone

Paper skins
Words kiss
Sentences caress
I like them swollen with myths
Of turbulence and tremors
Of abandonment
And collapsing stars

I love weaving long umbilical poems
that vine their way into your heart

Debris

For the past half century
living in an unprecedented
state of peace and prosperity
I have savored the muscular memory
of my signature hand,
how it held firm the curve
of your moist pubis.

Throw me out of your home
Throw me out of your heart

My grip on reality
crumbled
to debris.

A Rant

She walked up to me
soaked in post-graduate effervescent optimism
fresh as early dawn dew
asking,
“What does it feel like?
What does it feel like to be 63?”

It feels like erosion
It feels like corrosion
It feels like regression
Like abrasion
Like deterioration
Like degeneration
Dilapidation
Evisceration
Desecration
Castration
It feels
Like the same damn thing
24/7/365
Day after day
Morning noon and night
Year in and year out
Inhale
Exhale
Wash rinse and repeat
Wash rinse and repeat
After me
After day after day
Morning noon and night
Year in and year out
Winter spring summer fall
In the same fucken order
Winter sales
Spring sales
Summer sales
Fall sales
63 times and again
Water freezes
Flowers arise
Skin burns
Leaves fall
63 times and again
Weekly bills
Monthly bills
Quarterly fees
Annual taxes
Dishes to wash
Laundry to do
Floors to clean
Ass to wipe
Day after day
Morning noon and night
Year in and year out
Inhale
Exhale
How do I loathe thee?
Let me count the fucken ways
Every newspaper has a headline
Edition after edition
Everywhere you look
Wherever you are
Regardless of language
Every newspaper has a headline
Blood is red
Water is wet
Poetry is poetency
Green go
Red stop
Gravity rules
The sun is on perpetual contract
To the same unrelenting immutable laws
East-rise
West-set
Christmas carols every goddam December
Decking the Hall every Unsilent Night
Allahu akbar five fucken times a day
Passover and over
Time and again
Day after day
morning noon and night
year in and year out
From infancy
To infirmity
Be to not be
Inhale
Exhale
Inexplicably here
Inexplicably now
With all the substance
Of bland gland drool
And banality boner cum
On a revolving planet
Going round and round
A revolving sun
In a unremarkable galaxy
Pointlessly adrift
In an incomprehensible universe
Littered with Big Bang debris
So we live on and on and
On a swirling speck of shrapnel
We couple and cum and cum again
And what goes around cums around
And I slouch incompetent
At the intersect of infinity and eternity
Divvied into day after day
Morning noon and night
Year in and year out
Inhale
Exhale
Towards depletion
And completion
That’s what it's like to be 63
63 winters (all of them cold)
63 springs (all of them wet)
63 summers (all of them hot)
63 falls (all of them crisp)
63 years
And counting…

Every Word She Speaks

Every word she speaks
is touched wet
with her
tongue.

I want to become
the vocabularly
she draws on
the language
of l'amour

I want to be the word,
a long multi-consonant verb
that tumble-tongues
into luscious nouns
carried on vowels
made of the soft-interior
of her cheeks

A Spring Thought

Forest ferns all foetal
uncomma themselves
to full-frontal green grammar

Sex percolattes in the soil,
hormoans bloating
the bulbs shouldering up
break-through flowers
gluttoning themselves
senseless with sunsex
as we lean forward to sniff
their delicate wide-ons
all petal perfumed
in the quiet orgy of gardens

The Best Part of Me

THEY ARE THE WOMEN

There are Women who last a lusttime in a Man's groin.
There are Women who last a lovetime in a Man's heart.
There are Women who last a lifetime in a Man's soul.

God sleeps at the edge of the universe
where the clarity of science fades to uncertainty
where the deep-throated howls of women
in the full froth of fuck
soften into wet whispered somethings
soothing in the vowel of O

The universe is a wOmb
The earth is an egg swirling dervish in cumulus cum.

Their small breasts
fit firm
into my hand
into my mouth
into my poem
warmly as a sparrow snuggles in its nest

I love how they open their legs
in the shape of YESOYES
fitting into them
firmly as the rugged root of an oak
into the sun soft soil

They are the Women
who make the best part of me
uncivilized.

We Con The People