Rapid Rapid,

You might think that I forgot
What holiday it is,
For why else would I have bought
Easter candy like this?

Well let me tell ya, Heather hon,
Why I don't celebrate
In the manner that's usually done
And then you might commiserate.

Since every day of every week
It's you I'm thinking of,
If I can kiss you on the cheek,
For me that's holiday enough.

But being honest I must say
What actually transpired--
I did not recall what day
Until I was too tired.

In haste I scampered to the last
Store that was available,
Hoping to find something fast,
Not lame, yet still original.

So here you go, I tried my best
Though I wish I had more time;
If in your eyes I passed the test
Then will you be my valentine?

14 February 2005

one part vinegar.
two part pepper.
(rub salt,
acidity to taste)
handfuls of bitter melon
diced. run fingers over
grater.
cautery by knife
on skin where needed.
incubate.
nothing changes when
you open your eyes. there's
no convulsive fit worth
having that's not weakness.
what's white-washed
through the stern invocative
of self-preservation,
you will it. broken flesh
bleached
into ash. then befriend
forgetfulness.
resist the reconstructions
of mind, thinking, undoing.
fucking (could be, as)
a good annihilation.
-- was it. discarding
(into) each
other was deleterious bliss.
-- a kiss? I remember
smooth, velvet graphite, hot,
moist, molten lead.
dark knobs. gangrenous,
scraped down
under a salt-rasp
prescribed for this.
mix well.

my eyes casted the question:
a forgotten two-step
the calm hesitation across a glassy
void: incantations

whispered empties
to a figure of thought

warm sands here
meet the space between our skin
toes cling to a more and
more restless gesture

were you and I on the floor
we'd move as the blur of dust
the hot smoke
of deities