- He wonders why his breath on
her white neck
seem such a patronizing gesture?
he one of those usual depressives you see
to the point that they can only perform
rather windblown succession
is he a living volunteer to the cause of life,
with ladylike hands
a hunger comfortable yet insistent
all hunger should be?
crinoline Mother Goose figure
was that him?) leans
the sweating glass
the shark tank
begins to squirm away from his mouth
a mouth that was always
lit), holding her own hands’
silhouettes up to the water light
dorsals of some mystery flounder).
threaten to detach from her wrists,
their posted capacity,
bring the whole damp scene
indecipherable blue and black washes
white tiles centered
embedded splinters of pink coral
- In the pupil of his eye
doll reflection of her hovered in the dank room,
hands invisible behind her head
is a red stream commencing
a cold underground lake.
- He had always been the
lacking children, and
one of those “assumed” products
no one considers consciously
which was far too smooth
cling to the mind’s underbelly.
woman’s electric flutter of a face
an inquisition to him, an
the Struggle as social law. Surely,
in the black and blue fishroom,
would prefer to pull away slowly from these waters,
his hands (almost ladylike) behind
hours after the rest of him had fled
some plain American soil.
- And is she knew she might be
just another) safe harbor
the noble and lonely blue whale,
if she owned an excitement
toward an alert atmosphere—
still dreamt of being drowned.
- She found him devious in the
disliked his ambivalent hands,
their flakes of dry white skin,