OF THIS POEM LET LACAN MAKE WHAT HE CAN

not so
enthralled about
being imprisoned in
a mirror

(O my wicked witch what
seductive black talons to
be weaving
a spell with)

curses! here for all eternity
unless you
come into

the picture
(which you do! you do!)

in event of
emergency break, but to
slide in
share that reflective surface
with me is your
snap decision

one picture and now
one skin: you
behind me, targeting my epicenter,
turning molehills into
mountains
as
we really break
that fourth wall (for all)

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WHEN THE SMALL

Oh Mr Death
what should I fear

might as well
join you and Emily
in your custom
made carriage (nearly
said “chariot”)

for what should it matter
when

everything
is so small

why
should I not

stop to
touch a
rose (your
rose, my
dear)

smell the morning-
after coffee

when the small
is so everything?

THE DANCING

I am
done with this demon
please
replace with

one with
better flaws in
her design

that I can
at least dance around

(and, yes, the dancing:
nothing short
of spectacular).

PLACES TO CHILL

PLACES TO CHILL

a homeland
for poets and artists
and people who
would walk to
walk around naked
seeing infinity and all eternity
etc etc

and cops armed with feathers
and open-air
prisons which are
just
places to chill

BIRDS

LEOPARD

LEOPARD

before
you go
soft toy
for me

and these words prove
beautifully redundant

let a
hawk
circle her
house

peep
through her window

with waiting, frustration, anticipated exertion
let those hawk wings expand
take the rest of
the bird with them
become
an eagle

but where is the songbird
she has been promised
the lark, the nightingale
she
composed arias for?

Where is the robin, that
feathered martyr
whose breast
bleeds a scarlet
that could not
be more true?

For want of these signs, she suffers
but the signs of
the world that wishes to
storm her
Princess castle, take her
make her woman
suffer to.

Lastly, leastly, look:
a leopard scratching at her door

already we signs the
leopard going Bengal, going
Siberian white tiger

its eyes
your eyes: look in the
mirror, dear and
you cannot help see

and there
my imagined predatory shape
behind you.

UNLESS

I was baking under
an alien sun

when you came
slithering along
more snake than
human but
no
less beautiful

your dress a mass of
glittering sequins and
diamond sparkles

unless
it was your skin.

LET ME RAY BRADBURY YOU

Let me
Ray Bradbury you
your body electric

let me sing every inch
as I taste its fire
with tongue and
teeth

and together we launch
ourselves through
the stratosphere to
worlds truly
science fiction
(whose roots like
in proverbial
great
journeys of change).

SWORE

you swore

everyday to
hot
ice-cream
me

I, for
my part,
swore to
sort all

your licorice
out

perfect
wedding vows if
you ask me
(nicely)

SLOWLY

chances are slender
and so are you

who
(so supple)
curve
like a
bow

wounding me
grievously
with
fire-arrows

calling it
love

and
when I insist
you pull
them out

you do it
so
very
slowly