The Message You Will Find in Every of Your Books

Heaving breaths between beating
Books–
Shelves where I am
Lain, where I
See myself wrapped between sheeves,
Hinted through smears of ink
And translucent
Whites–
Our dry, our wet–
Old
Pages
Ancient
Words.
I am–
I speak–
With you.

Man with fire–
I am,
Silver eyes,
What could I possibly
Tell you that you don’t already
Know?
But the clarity of this
Mourning, every
Possibility of death in me
I hold closely–
Writhing watchful eye.

If I see you
Tonight, will we
Blast the space again
Between eyes?

Do you
Extend past this
Time
As I do?
Are you as
Ancient, are you as
Spoken?

You are as reversed
As I. And I am
Temporarily anyway
Out of
Allusions
Or
Illusions to wall
Apart.

For now my forms
For you are
Every promised
Amalgam of your sure
Line.

Je t’aime.

A Tea of Summer Breeze

Baldessari stones.
Pots with cones. Thick palatable cut of growth
Breathing in umber groan.
Flashing cadmium velum skins articulate
Created candle current.
Three of you, a trio to
Count on.
(Oh, how many loves?) How
Much history to quantify an emotion before a
Necessary departure?
Honey build, sweet
Heat, amber
Thick.
The wood and him–
Home.
Brick and primary lights.
(Huff through the grass, weeds–
Ankles
Know and scent the roots and earth
Below)

Where did I lie and what should I have been?

I am such liar. I do know how.
I know how.

Refusal of the Secret

Hand me the next one, no,
The next. I’ll hold it while I–
There.

But oh, so–sure
His
Line.

Quiet with your French. Enough–
Why, why can’t it wait for
Paunchy cheeks and
The suggestion of another
Afternoon in
Linen?

I thought I had already given you a place in which to
Believe. Because
My heart is old and you
Can be a redemption. I see you–
Sneaky fingers. Silver
Eyes you are too
Obvious. Will you
Love
My name on the dotted
Line?
Hide her in the next
Room but she is my
Double.

How could you but have taught her–
Daughter–
But vigor?

Oh, rigor,
Oh, call me again–
Between the wood and your frame–
Naples! I saw you again, I
claimed you and he and
Curled on the
Wooden floor.

But my tears fell
After your
Afternoon.

Slippery Architecture

Naples and I–
You call again to-
He curls again to-

Silver pavement will I
Walk you again before I can
Bear
The thought of him?

And silver
Eyes–to which to
Implore-
The Global? The
Sickly Sensuous?

If only I meet myself again in your studio.
Vigor.