^{—after Gwendolyn Brooks}

that which is betwixt us of the lampooned lips and noses
indissoluble as blood impassioned by a serene swatch of sky—

envy of the blessing of birds       and      the divine shadow
cast to provide protective canvas for our bones of calcified light

the chains that wore us in the fashion of diamond-studded pendants
and       the names that the ocean omitted from history with a wave

envy of the privilege of birds       and       the low-hung cumulus 
carried in baskets through the blistering heat by blistered hands

the wade into waters as stoic as windows during sudden storms
and       the burdens branches bore without snapping loose from life 

envy of the immunity of birds       and       the wooden instrument 
of spiritual salvation snared in blasphemous flames on front lawns

the holes punched into the balloter before their ballot was boxed 
and       the dialects curbing the confidence of compass needles

envy of the license of birds       and       the coldness weathered 
that is distinct from the weather met in thoroughly wintered towns

the hearty home made of a humble house stood up in hostile borders
and       the insomnia that hope prerequisites in its toilsome making       

envy of the prerogative of birds       and       the severity of the last 
syllable        or       even more so the softness of it when we say it 

siblingly in casual salutation—       lavishly each other’s harvest 
seriously each other’s business       envious of the birthright of birds

because you’re psychic
no one else could understand me
the way you

do and

I say
Drink Me

I say it to you silently
but it calls forth in me

the water for you
the water you asked for

A wave of love for you just knocked me off my chair

I will love you and love you

I will reach out my hand to you in the noise of carhorns and merengue and pull you close by the waist

I will call you my museum of everything always

I will call you MDMA

I love you ecstatic exalted sublime

I wish you were here—there’s an enormous cloud sitting off in the distance

It’s a beautiful walk from there to my place

I’m buzzing but the buzzer may not be working

There’s a raccoon rearing on hind legs twitching its nose from behind a short fence

Let me stew you some tomatoes

As long as I keep moving the overtones don’t jackhammer my skull

I am waiting for something very very good

My phone is like, what, I’m a phone

She pressed her lips to mind.
—a typo

How many years I must have yearned
for someone’s lips against mind.
Pheromones, newly born, were floating
between us. There was hardly any air.

She kissed me again, reaching that place
that sends messages to toes and fingertips,
then all the way to something like home.
Some music was playing on its own.

Nothing like a woman who knows
to kiss the right thing at the right time,
then kisses the things she’s missed.
How had I ever settled for less?

I was thinking this is intelligence,
this is the wisest tongue
since the Oracle got into a Greek’s ear,
speaking sense. It’s the Good,

defining itself. I was out of my mind.
She was in. We married as soon as we could.

The gray sea and the long black land; 
And the yellow half-moon large and low: 
And the startled little waves that leap 
In fiery ringlets from their sleep, 
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand. 

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; 
Three fields to cross till a farm appears; 
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch 
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through joys and fears, 
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

My Love is of a birth as rare
As ’tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by despair
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble Hope could ne'r have flown
But vainly flapt its Tinsel Wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended Soul is fixt,
But Fate does Iron wedges drive,
And alwaies crowds it self betwixt.

For Fate with jealous Eye does see
Two perfect Loves; nor lets them close:
Their union would her ruine be,
And her Tyrannick pow'er depose.

And therefore her Decrees of Steel
Us as the distant Poles have plac'd,
(Though Love's whole World on us doth wheel)
Not by themselves to be embrac'd.

Unless the giddy Heaven fall,
And Earth some new Convulsion tear;
And, us to joyn, the World should all
Be cramp'd into a Planisphere.

As Lines so Loves oblique may well
Themselves in every Angle greet:
But ours so truly Parallel,
Though infinite can never meet.
                                                    
Therefore the Love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debarrs,
Is the Conjunction of the Mind,
And Opposition of the Stars.

translated by Sarah Arvio

To find a kiss of yours

what would I give

A kiss that strayed from your lips

dead to love

My lips taste

the dirt of shadows     

To gaze at your dark eyes

what would I give

Dawns of rainbow garnet  

fanning open before God— 

The stars blinded them

one morning in May

And to kiss your pure thighs

what would I give

Raw rose crystal  

sediment of the sun

*

[Por encontrar un beso tuyo]

Por encontrar un beso tuyo,

¿qué daría yo?

¡Un beso errante de tu boca

muerta para el amor!

(Tierra de sombra

come mi boca.)

Por contemplar tus ojos negros,

¿qué daría yo?

¡Auroras  de carbunclos irisados

abiertas frente a Dios!

(Las estrellas los cegaron

una mañana de mayo.)

Y por besar tus muslos castos,

¿qué daría yo?

(Cristal de rosa primitiva,

sedimento de sol.)

And you remember, in the afternoon
The sea and the sky went grey, as if there had sunk
A flocculent dust on the floor of the world: the festoon
Of the sky sagged dusty as spider cloth,
And coldness clogged the sea, till it ceased to croon.

A dank, sickening scent came up from the grime
Of weed that blackened the shore, so that I recoiled
Feeling the raw cold dun me: and all the time
You leapt about on the slippery rocks, and threw
Me words that rang with a brassy, shallow chime.

And all day long, that raw and ancient cold
Deadened me through, till the grey downs dulled to sleep.
Then I longed for you with your mantle of love to fold
Me over, and drive from out of my body the deep
Cold that had sunk to my soul, and there kept hold.

But still to me all evening long you were cold,
And I was numb with a bitter, deathly ache;
Till old days drew me back into their fold,
And dim hopes crowded me warm with companionship,
And memories clustered me close, and sleep was cajoled.

And I slept till dawn at the window blew in like dust,
Like a linty, raw-cold dust disturbed from the floor
Of the unswept sea; a grey pale light like must
That settled upon my face and hands till it seemed
To flourish there, as pale mould blooms on a crust.

And I rose in fear, needing you fearfully.
For I thought you were warm as a sudden jet of blood.
I thought I could plunge in your living hotness, and be
Clean of the cold and the must. With my hand on the latch
I heard you in your sleep speak strangely to me.

And I dared not enter, feeling suddenly dismayed.
So I went and washed my deadened flesh in the sea
And came back tingling clean, but worn and frayed
With cold, like the shell of the moon; and strange it seems
That my love can dawn in warmth again, unafraid.

You looked inside

For what the perishable flesh might hide; 

And now you say that inner part

Will represent her in my heart. 

I tell you no.

Philosopher, I say I loved her so

I did not dig within—content

When seasons came, when seasons went.

When she would frown,

You think I set the meaning of it down?

The meaning goes; but something stays

I shall have with me all my days—

Her forehead bare

One instant, then blown over by her hair; 

A sudden turn; her hand at rest

Upon a window toward the west. . . .

^{for Dominique}

I know this

from looking

                          into store fronts

                          taste buds voguing

alight from the way

treasure glows

                          when I imagine

 

                          pressing its opulence

into your hand

I want to buy you

                          a cobalt velvet couch

                          all your haters’ teeth

strung up like pearls

a cannabis vineyard

                          and plane tickets

                          to every island

on earth

but my pockets

                          are filled with

                          lint and love alone

touch these inanimate gods

to my eyelids

                          when you kiss me

                          linen leather

gator skin silk

satin lace onyx

                          marble gold ferns

                          leopard crystal

sandalwood mink

pearl stiletto

                          matte nails and plush

                          lips glossed

in my 90s baby saliva

pour the glitter

                          over my bare skin

                          I want a lavish life

us in the crook

of a hammock

                          incensed by romance

                          the bowerbird will

forgo rest and meals

so he may prim

                          and anticipate amenity

                          for his singing lover

call me a gaunt bird

a keeper of altars

                          shrines to the tactile

                          how they shine for you

fold your wings

around my shoulders

                          promise me that

                          should I drown

in want-made waste

the dress I sink in

                          will be exquisite