there is an essence in us,
a vagrant,
a hold-up man,
a differentiation from Einstein, forever
one thing after another,
genetic text, confluent, spilled over
scenes, of copulation
hidden deep,
in stains
beneath your fine Bellini print.

the human soul itself expresses
herself, illuminates her devotions
on a woman, the age of 20,
smiling at Peter,
drinking deeply
from the water, of his transmutation
into fish, drunk godliness.

there is something terribly
intriguing about it,
the mystery and urge,
of this passion,
this paired transmutation, of man
from an eggman
into joys,
into the Lilith, seduction.

Fallen,
i just died in your arms
a crowing, a vertebrate drinking
from a shaft, of light
burst suddenly, like a vision
from a mass, from a mass
of dense organic compounds.

an old woman looking, young
then a screech, of brakes,
gives pause
to the vagrant muse, of immortality
he, of all things
he is the most disturbing.

08/09/2005

Author's Note: published in DISPATCH

Posted on 08/09/2005
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