A Clutch Of Planets
Clusters of stars spread like oils-
thickly mixed and smeared on the mirror
the blue line emulsifies and I walk over it
and sit in the cry box with a new coat of paint
broken up theater of seaweed
dominion of scented pale dust
what arc bisects through this sky?
I divide black sand into two piles
And cut up gray matter
nourishment seeping out to the surface
then rise from a drip tray
Beneath a clutch of planets
And watch the granules of the sun
Burning up and reforming again
churned up moons
congealing beneath the feet
O blood pushing out at the walls
The black sea ice breaks
Cells unwrap
Swath of soaked head shawl
a wedge of time has collapsed
the stacked antlers
in the foreground
wade through a horse trough
wet skirt on a warm day
fluid motion surrounded in steel
slip bucket mystery
skimming off oil from a long cooled broth
and saving it in a jar for much later
expecting showers of debris
Phantom Waterfall
digging for sand rubies and exoskeletons.
ash blows over from the Mexican volcano
guiding a jaguar up
i stand on shale and it begins to snow mica
into the mud
or is it pan spermia?
those spores that blew off from mars
and stars us from dust devils and vapor caves
every night water pours through
the cave and takes away the skin cells
that have drifted to the breathing walls
and changed the course
the human breath changes humidity too
you can feel it on your neck even though no one
is directly behind you.
there is a buzzing in your head
purple dragonflies circling over a phantom waterfall
and in this perfect air between here and there
the skin stays porous with light traveling both ways
in some parts of the world you have a hot sand treatment
and come out new, or cedar shavings or mud
and sulfur water
i lay my head on the shoulder
of the condemned road and watch the eclipse:
cream floating to the rim of the moon
the painter's easel is a lit up constellation
a paper blows up in my face-
this is a flyby camera shot
and a dress rehearsal for saturn
the scientists say we will reproduce in space soon
I chalk my hands and face the rock
and decide on a shoulder route
Palm
Sugar
my
ex-husband was a moist monster
shaving with the
waters of space
overlaid
stratum belt
buckle
his
mirror hanging in a slicked back tree
songs
like a mess of agglutinated pollen
gave
me a postprandial kiss
on
a pontoon bridge in the rain
(still
paying off the shady side of the ship)
Where
we learned the pour point of equatorial clouds
these sheets are powdered with a pounce box
Yet
the ink still runs its too hot to write a letter
From inside this bubble
Particle by
particle he sells his soul from a geodesic dome
stares
at a window box of black snapdragons
said You can't trust the river- you turn your back and the tide goes out
The ocean sucks
the plants ruled by Saturn couldn't
bind us together
reptilians in the portals couldn't keep us apart
they disperse through bearded terrestrial
orchids
and
here we are each in our own phone booth
boas pressed
against terrariums
turning our heads methodically to see if anyone is
looking
though
of course they can't hear the spectrum of pulsations
packed tight into a dense area of matter and
energy
Remember our wedding day
ride?
The
police saluted our procession swearing it was a funeral
And we were awakened
that night by a potato bug in the trash
thought it was spirits scratching messages on paper
we threw
the intruder out the window then we kissed
The goat in the yard rang its
double bell to ward off evil
Palm sugar
You
bought me Turk's cap lilies in the
market and we were hungry
The fish-monger removed a head
And
wrapped the body in the obituaries
We packed it in rosemary and hid it beneath the hood
of the car
Then
drove around to cook it and kissed some
more
Trying not to get into another accident
Now what
do we have?
I
pull a bucket up from the well and it has a moccasin in it
You pull the microphone towards
your mouth
And
a bat catches on the screen door
I
pick through the hair of night and find frangi-pangi petals
starting to curl back like sneering lips