Clouds and Trees

"Nothing ever goes away enough or arrives enough,/ and I want to cry when I think of my heart,/ muscle pounding in muscle, greedy always for joy." – 'A Warning', Eric Anderson

Month: June, 2009

The Bagatelle That Played On In His Head

So paint yourself a lovely picture
but don’t forget about the tits, sir
You’re still a twisted little prick, sir
at least that’s what they say
in the town square where the bagatelles proclaim

that hidden far beneath your whiskers
you’re still softly smiling with her
but don’t forget you’ll never miss her
although you stand so far away
your eyes upon her moonlit bodice play

Just try to taste her on your lips, sir
there’s nothing better than a kiss, sir
Now your eyes lie upon her sister
Well second best isn’t always second rate
if you haven’t got any shame
while she screams softly out your name

your mind is toying with a gift, sir
This new concoction takes the piss, sir
I’ll ask you once so softly mister
Oh please don’t take her away
I know you’ve got this silver silk brocade
and you’re planning to show her
of just what you are made

And what if she says no, sir?
Says another boy won’t let her go, sir?
Will you kill her where she lays?
just because she can’t stand to say
that her love is the one
who’s been following you ’round all day

What a surprise and still, what’s this, sir?
A knife that plays upon your lips, sir
And in your chest it comes to lay
It’s not my fault
that you took more than you may
Though she hides in the courtyard
she still must whisper my name
And I won’t lie
for that’s the least of my crimes
I can’t guarantee that she’ll one day love me
but she sure as hell won’t love you today

In the town square the bagatelles proclaim
that my wanton heart was enough to drive me insane
but when they find these damned lovers lying in their early grave
they’ll know I only got what I gave

The Flight of Diana, August 13th, Aricia

She takes off her clothes
to spill the blood of another
two-story god
with a building in his body
and vines; cracks along his facade

She spins around the room
to watch the moon until morning
and lays her sheets upon the ground
where they’ll soak up the stains
of what yesterday made

She combs out her silky hair
and the only secret she ever had
and tosses herself from the balcony
where she lies upon the piny heather

The forest hides her now
though she remains carved in marble
in some courtyard under a long lost mezzanine
and there a boy mourns her body
while she watches from between the trees

And So Sang Coyote

call me coyote
I’ve crawled the desert’s many hives
I’ve felt the sting of snowy sand
I’ve seen what it means to die

call me coyote
I’ve been burned a thousand times
so my hide remains as red
as the setting summer sun

call me coyote
yes, my breaths come in canticles
as it crawls up towards the sky
each exhalation shakes the dunes
like a thousand grains gone by

call me coyote
my thoughts stain like icicles
falling silently back to earth
and still I dream of a moon
close enough to lean on
far enough to pray to
and made of milky marigolds
which fall from my mirrored eyes