"A Plot of Soil Unspoiled by Your Remains"
and Other Poems

A Plot of Soil Unspoiled by Your Remains

A mock-mausoleum erected for the undead
serves as bed and breakfast in my mind.

A place for you, a respite, a retreat,
no place for you in life, your type is weak.

The meek are meant to perish not to please.
So please depart, here start with one of these:

a gun, a length of rope, a knife; unless,
you would prefer to suffer my caress.

---

The Night was Warm the Wheat in Swells

We slipped into the Baldwin's barn
buckled in each other's arms

frolicked in the farmer's stalls
as if the hogs weren't watching.

The air was thick as mucus on the muzzle of a bull.
Bulgur stuck to us we stuck to love

like ticks to livestock, till the cocks
ripped out our hearts with their hellos.

---

Reading Allowed

Laser beams through screams of love-joy, boy
I'd like to poetize your native language.

Lilting licks of trick linguistics
tie my tongue to yours, our knot; articulation.

This sensation, slick and sought for, offers
little more than spittle on the palate.

So they say, or so say they
who haven't had it.

---

Alone in the Garden of Good and Evil

A fig wasp and a leafhopper
co-mar this saffron backdrop
and I wonder if the world is ill at ease.

On my knees, as if to worship
I pick flowers for the bees, indivisible
their workspace and their rest stop.

Though a slacker, still I ponder
dander, standards, ethics, sex,
sex excessively bombards my oblongata.

Gotta give myself a hand, I stand
for magic, let it wander,
floral fingers find their way
onto my spot, ah.