just as love

dana's postcard of love notes

 

 

 

First the zaftig roses have grown thru the fence, I must be home;

coming into these yellow sands. Come away, come away death when life

is the week long acaulescent. When the satyagraha wind peeks over

the bill of the negro in-vitro. Wishing to be invented.

 

When the sparkle of stars are like the tears that Hepburn shed

in 'Song of Love' with those sickening black beeds that, truth be told,

the drag queens would die for.

 

I am so very new to tears, dripping as they do. Do monkeys do anything

but listen and hear; their pink bottoms of moist stink. Stand close to

the wall. Wait.

 

Your rustling has been figured out by the eggplant mother tried to grow.

Pull over the car. Touch me.

With that lachrymal lace, your lower lip that would vanish the red lipstick

making you appear comical or a leaf half completed. Most of the time the

pearlescence of the bride is so obvious, but not this day.

 

The remuda of the meteor shower, the chosen reason for stars in the first place,

is a saluatation. A celestial way to form a word. Who could have known the snowy

owl had clawed itself into you, which explains the windows curse of oil

as inexhaustible or that unobtainable wish-list of seed pods. Let the

memories pass. Cedar is more a fragrance than a wood.

 

Mother compares me to my father but he's been gone now for twentyfive years.

How can that be? Does memory stay with you forever like a photograph

in a sunken ship? There is something suggestive about seawater overflowing

the mast, then the hull

 

then the whole damn thing is gone

just like love.

Reviews

[Emily B]

a hint of Whitman, but just a very little of the old bard, the rest is genius you

[sienikeha]

wow. :) abundant , plump. sincere voice throughout. gold ability to weave poems from "that place". i wonder how you write? where you write? do your eyes glaze over half dreaming? churning churning. ...