her

 

 

Could it mean anything?

We are heavier than 43 now. Our shoulders

like biscuits, ICY-HOT

and flowered faena.

Sex: The bathetic mud-puddle

we crawl to.

But we are psychopaths.

We amble out of light

torn like yesterdays

LEGO mansions.

Last evening I pleased you;

needy and aged. Horny by

your pterosaur cackle. You

rattle pots, hum, often

in that medicine voice.

Hurried, I return the videos

to the Blockbuster, closed now,

extinct by the ways of wingless

togetherness. I drop one,

 

the one of split plastic, with

rich colors showing thru. Woods,

some blue. Moon shapes. We open

our old mouths to kiss like the cave

that held Lazarus. My upper lip

stings till noon.

The bird tongues stagger out,

resurrected from tooth and spit;

Keeper of its leftover, unclaimed

images.

Her,

 

that exceptional intrusion in its watertight

cabin. Lay still, psychic -

delusional people, and tell me,

other than contemptuous love,

what anything means?

Reviews

[Corset]

what more can I say, This is my favorite of all my favorites. It's impossible to articulate the brillance of HDE.

[Semaj]

Your ability to connect intimacy which usually is mute to life with poetic superiority was impeccable.

[W.k.kortas]

The wonderful juxtapositons of love and Legos, connubial bliss and Blockbuster, the passion of Romeo and Juliet in late-model versions of the same. When one is able to take something intimate between two people and plug it in to the universal, to something bigger than just ourselves...well, that's writing is supposed to do, damnit, if it's worth its salt, and, boy howdy, is this a boatload of seasoning.

[writing mojo]

My praise to you and your petal stoop is like paper boy and pigeon whole highs.. equal with the evening addition, no glossy flogger just words to the wise and sky for lectures and I myself imprinted in your ink blot boldness of Motor City longue durée..thank you... you are absolutely brilliant!