Red Flavor Red

Red Flavor Red

poetry

Don Pesavento

From the open love letter’s “Lover Unknown” and the sizzling romance-noir symbolism of “Nighthawk” to the soft-sky fall of the “Perfect Kiss” and the beauty devotee homages of “Things of Beauty,” this collection reveals some of the most beautiful 21st century poetry embellished with lush lyricism emboldened by sensual symbolism.

Brazenly striving to express the ineffable, the poet’s bold brushstrokes word-paint an aural canvass resonating within the reader’s emotive ear, pushing the boundaries of language beyond its banal constraints, and legerdemain-venturing into avant-garde shadow realms of the linguistic mysterious. The adventurer poet dreamcanoe paddles through unexplored crepuscular-blue lacustrine waterscapes and serene river eddy currents of the imagination swirling in a flux of memories Past, estuary-spilled into an ocean of tidal emotions deep within cavernous grottoes of the sentient human heart, and desire-drowned in the absinthe depths of a “Petite Mort” Siren symphonic sea cove song of desire.

Themes range from the revelatory “Why I Write Poetry” to the assertive “I Believe” and empowering “Because the World” to the Italo-romantic “Mamma Mia,” surreal “Synesthete,” “Beautiful Wrinkles,” and the sensational cinema starlet poems of Claudia Cardinale, Marlene Dietrich, Isabella Rossellini, Sophia Loren, and Marilyn Monroe.

A Fabergé fantasy egg book of poetry hatching an exquisite sensibility, Red Flavor Red nebula shimmers like a midsummer midnight’s firefly-glowing mist flashing luminescent mini epiphanies.

Red is the music I see when we kiss

Lover Unknown

To you whom I may never meet, I know you're out there, somewhere among the billions so few known, even less, how their gardens grow.

I've looked for you everywhere: Spider-sensed your Web vibrations Spelunked the Internet echoing your laughter Eskimoed your nose on Facebook Heard your pink, breathing among roses Walked with you, young-years hand in hand, barefoot through Wuthering Heights' snow ID'd your jumbled jigsaw-puzzle's silhouette face Perused your dating-site collages of compatibilities Cherry-stem cherished your smile's cherry contours Fingertip-sailed along your fertile-Nile dark eyelashes Trinket-tinkled your charm bracelet's tambourine Panther-paced inside your feline essence Pearl-dived your snow-globe ocean through man-shark infested waters to bring you this breathless bijoux.

Pulled you on a sled through autumn leaves.

Time-traveled the infinity of your beautiful Being Iris-petal trembled at your spring rain's touch Wished us Merry Christmas in July First-kiss free fell through your lips' soft cirrus sky Grew old with you younger each year Spotted your fashion-magazine leopard pose Bodysurfed your Lady-of-the-Lake tsunamis Shared tiramisu with you by Italian candlelight Lullaby-listened to your tropical-whispering surf Feather-tickled your Mediterranean-dreaming chin Stiletto slow Tangoed you at Venice sunset Brushed past your feminine shoulders along busy muscular-city masculine streets

Rain-puddle glimpsed your raindrop fairy pirouettes Morning-Star nestled in your body's lunar crescent Gazed-mesmerized at your mascara-masqueraded eyes Comet-arrow pierced your midnight blue rose Heard your wind-swept October night leaves calling me Smelled your wet hair's black-walnut forest perfume Wyoming-wind-combed your summer swept mane Wicked Game karaoke-serenaded you Savored your Sunday afternoon strawberry-cream hmm Caramel-tasted your hazelnut coffee kiss Always known you are the One Fought riptides off your Siren's choral reef Desire-drowned in your torrid tidal waters Salmon-shimmied upstream to reach you Hatched through a Robin-eggshell sky wingspread to fly to you Got ticketed by the Reverie Police for yelling out your name in a wet dream's Quiet Zone Deciphered your Oracle Chai Latte tea leaves Mapped your virgin-forest unexplored continent Phoned phantom countries where you once slept Loved you at first sight, unseen Photographed your daffodil-yellow exotic dress dancing between the falling rain, untouched Read your eyes' poetry between the lines Valentino Sheik of Araby embraced your red mystery Persian-rug tented during a sandstorm Checked under my bed for your size 7's Pressed the TV remote to bring you closer Hyper-texted your guardian angel glowing outside airplane windows Showed up groomed incognito as a wedding guest Made a new life with you Opened our fortune cookie, and out flew a dove: you, fluttering me, just around the next corner.

Bluebird

We two keep a secret rendezvous: The garden ripening tomato's green door Opening red near the rhubarb and sunlit Canopy filtering lime through grapevine leaves Chlorophyll incubating burgundy eggplants Hatching cerise desires, mon amour.

Come, join us, they said, And I went among the lavender phlox Listening to zucchini arrivals.

And the turning of celery keys Plunging my xylem and phloem fingers Carrot-deep into the rich black soil to reach you Through the back-door dog door Into the kitchen of your heart Where you stand, leaning over the sink Sea-nymph hands foamed in dishwater Where you mop, wearing only an apron Where you choose, from 28 coffee cups Hung on the wall, the mug labeled Italy Where you sweep, willow-swaying your hips Where you sit, sipping honey-jasmine tea Nibbling dark fudge walnut brownies Your fire-forest hair igniting the ginger atmosphere Permeated with your hot pumpkin pie perfume.

I followed your pheromone trail scent.

Tangerine-butterscotch lingering bedroom anise musk Silk pillow rose vanilla cedar licorice pink Cotton candied within your crushed red velvet room Sibilant-hushed by sepia negligee satin whispers Sienna meshed against your hunny curl freshets Trickling rivulets down your gracilis onto the bed sheet peht

peht

peht

Come, know me, you said And I felt your body violin Cello resonate basso profundo up from my throat Saw your eyes' quail-covey startled sky swoon Robin's-egg blue in my arms And I held you round and smooth Pouting for fingered cinnamon Sprinkled French-toast butter spread over your thighs Syrup-soaked on the dining table by midnight candlelight Amaretto mocha charisma melting chocolate on caramel tongues Body language murmuring low accordion notes of love Cappuccino kisses crossing your lips' vermilion borders Black cherry trespassed into your forbidden blue lotus country Sacred Heart lingual flames Corazón-crimson flambé Scarlet sensuous in your sultry mouth's sitar-sentient seascapes Jelly-flagella crescendo spilled onto your shore's receding surf Still whispering waves of liquid ecstasy.

Yes, yes, yes, And again yes Until yes had No meaning No voice No sound No world Only tremulous petal blossom Touch of your bluebird rain.

Flambeau

No, I will not leave you But stay, intimate as skin, Embrace you closer in sickness, Remain by your bedside, And go with you Wherever the future leads.

And if, we are only candles, Hold you, here and now, For a moment, Burning your beautiful flame If only water, Baptismal water droplets Anointing your forehead If only myrrh, Kitten paws of fog Consecrating your closed eyelids If only gold, Camphor oil's desert oasis night breeze Menthol-murmuring over your breasts If only frankincense, Angel breath zephyrs Vesper whispered over your relaxed back Lying on the plush umber leather couch, My anaconda hands massaging your tired feet Cucumber lotion soothe-sliding cool between Your toes squeezing tighter each slippery pass: Sable-cuff tethered ankles Black-mink blindfolded lashes Velvet-lariat lassoed wrists Jaguar-choker leashed neck

Finger Whispers

Your fingers whisper secrets to my body Naked-unashamed listening to taboos Their foreign tongues reveal: Soft syllables of hands Murmured in dark sand-castle corridors Tunneled wet through damp skin beaches Your jazz fingers, playing my piano soul Your fingers, fanned Oriental, spread Peacock, Concealing your mysterious chin Your thumb, tasted in nascent water dreams Your index, in-utero, pointing at stars Middle, dipped in honeycombs Your ring finger, stung by bumblebee love Your pinky, aloof from espresso cup handles Your finger paint rainbows of mist Arched above the Sistine Chapel sky Fingers, kneading muscle lust Quicksilver through my herringbone hair Fingers of rain, crying tulip-cheek tears Silhouetting shadow puppets making love Forming rabbit ears, giving me the O.K. Your fingers of anger, double flipping me The bird, behind my back Peace-signing me V for victory Your blood-red talons, spurring my derriere Your fingers of snow Damming the lava-sabers of my migraines Drawing Valentine Cupid hearts Arrowed on steamy February car windows Your tambourine fingers, dancing gypsy Barefoot around your campfire desire: Fingers of lightning, flashing before thunder.

Diabolique

Love me wrong, right now, here on the rug; Cirque du Animal femme fatale agent provocateur Doggy kitty-cataclysmic into your further dimension Ramrod strong, Lipizzaner stallion Bareback straddled by your Mata Hari thighs Prussian blue beneath the Big Top circus tent Love me long, all night, beyond death, Evening Star cradled by your crescent moon Eternal summer song, sung in your younger years Now the beautiful breathing of wrens King Kong, Congo primal jumbo in mega metro jungles Skyscraper throng stamen-erect stalagmites Spiral priapic thrust, impaling nocturnal city skies Tango thong, sweet rind cheek-squeezed Zorra-symphysis wedged against my hip Bang my gong, Java mystic, cymbal-hissed atmospheres Exhaling your Past inhaling my Present Love me imagined as someone else His or her star-crossed Romeo or Juliet Sarcophagus bas relief Eros-angel Fuchsia fleurs du mal in your hair, shouting pink Sarong stripped Polynesian lunar body Phosphorescent surf-churning mine by starlight Read me as a book you fear, sitting there Language lap-danced by this mantra poem Roller coaster screaming down the sine wave of life Motorcycle back seat high-gear blue jean dry humping Cro Magnon XX, XXX par derrière Grunting guttural proto-French Wild Woman of Borneo yum yum eat’em up At Armageddon, blindfolded by my disintegrating hands Calling me by another name, our secret call sign

Love me as only I can love you, Idolatrous, velvet-hooded cloaked in black Salome seductive slow-flame sex assassin Kiss me, Esmeralda, midnight shadow-veiled Lip locked inside a Notre Dame de Paris vestibule Sanctuary-embraced in secret passageway enshrined grottoes Gregorian-chant echoing Quasimodo tear-filled cisterns Votive candle flickering silent red threnodies Bloom for me tuberose, after hours, Church mouse quiet, unseen Inside a basement closet of the Louvre Mahjong ivory tiger Fire-caged within your burning bamboo forest Samurai sword sheathed Up to the red-diamond dragon tail hilt Elevator alarmed, Proclaiming True Love in a false world Forsaking all others, including yourself Space-Station-Earth roommate, trans wormhole, E-messaged, Milky Way satellite ricocheted Where dolphins translate ocean syntax Over your head in deep water desire Where love dog paddles so as not to drown.

Love me wrong but love me.

Red Flavor Red

Red is the flavor I feel on your lips Red is the music I see when we kiss Red is the starlight I hear when I taste you Red is the raven tattoo blue-perfumed within you Red is the Christmas holly red scent I breathe from your evergreen-incense braided hair Red is the red tempest your dark angel sighs Red is the cerulean flame, burns soft on your thighs Red is the white light I smell when we pink Red is the ivory of your lust-white upturned eyes Red is the cherry, asleep in your cherry pose Red is your chiffon rustling minx Night Red is your wild, holds and subdues me Red is your cooing dove's sad flute Red is your lipstick, garnet-satiates my tongue Red is your red swan, swan-dreaming pink Red is your aria high c, shatters my Phantom lungs

Lightning

I am the matador steel, draped scarlet I am the Kodiak, licks honey lacuna I am the lap dog you pet I am the milkweed your orange monarch drinks I am the thistle your tiger swallowtail eats I am the cardinal, red at your birdhouse door I am the barracuda, javelin-parting your sea sky I am the hand your glove fits like no other I am the dart, feather-flicked to your bull's eye I am the mustang saddle horn held stiff I am the bucking bronco you pussycat tame I am the mare whisperer, stroking your flowing mane I am the Iris, violet-rushing through your veins I am the gold spike, consummating our railroads I am the locomotive, derailed in your marshmallow tunnel I am the Zuni serpent fetish arm bracelet you clasp I am the stubbed toe, hopping-on-one-foot slapstick at which you can't stop laughing I am the silly goo ga ga mama dada I am the vibra-flexed fishnet fish, I am the sea genie, dreaming in your conch I am the ultraviolet of blue butterfly wings I am the comet pollinating stars

Bubble Bath

Cyber-unseen I arrived, bathroom doorknob Waiting for your hand's hello-goodbye Immersed in luxurious warm bath water privacy Steamy summer night lagoon caresses Massage nuance-nudging you to seek Coconut rum spice candle-glow refuge shelter From the ice storms swirling cold around you: Rain-forest spirit of mist, sun-dialing the faucet Humid-aquamarine waterfall-flooding the tub Splashing lilac salts' frothy sea spray, churning Lavender scented oil spheres' effusive tourmaline Amethyst cumulus clouds inviting you to step inside And acquiesce to its shampoo passion, welcomed home By soap suds kisses rainbow-tickling your toes and Foam-submerging your exhausted back and muscle woes Effervescent suds, rising above shoulders And nape Up to your chin, sibilant bubble-burst sibilance Crinkling in your ear coves muted by terry cloth towels Waiting to dry you, still suspended in deep oceanic dream.

Nighthawk

Sandalwood sauna mist saffron incense suffuses your skin Sentient-sweat sizzling my dark-animal anisette scent Crimson soft breathing beneath your cherry silk kimono Gold organza emblazoned dragon-tongue that slow flame Tingle-itch licks your scarlet orchid honey-drip lips Blossoming wildflower-wanton damp sassafras Spearmint leaf-vein surging through your snow-melt wreath Portabella-embracing my mandrake-root blood mystery Smackdown-fishnet black rim slapped magenta Fuchsia-tight against your garter-cinched mastering thighs.

Show me your power, you whispered And from a midnight Black Oak moaning forest: Bonfire-blazing pianos, resounding blue...

Fire-wire harp plucked cacophonies, incantation-conjuring Shape shifting Nighthawk-winged rustling silhouettes Carnal feral-coupled in summer-thick wet grass Shooting-star streaming across a diamond studded cosmos Exhaling your ultra-violet female Universe Coming to rest, purple swallowtail kiss on my ear.

Blue Roses

Sunset:

Aromatic lilac lavender unveils the city violet.

Sidewalk concrete bubblegum pink Shalimar scent Ascends the flanks of skyscrapers and dwells Responsive towards a sentient sky awaiting stars.

I mourning dove listened, suspended summer moon, Captured by your garden's blue rose refrain Blossoming lapis lazuli sepals Billowing star sapphire cirrus petals Azure-iridescent Morpho wing clusters Diaphanous-veiling serene center-pistil eyes Indigo shadow-swept by ultramarine hurricanes Swirling Aegean deep sea cobalt dark desire My offering to you, transcendent, Endless as a river of love immortal Ever flowing forever deeper, penetrating mauve Grottoes of my yearning heart's servitude Vena-cava blood rushing cerulean Turquoise-stained soul Eros-arrow pierced, Opened scarlet, mortally wounded, resurrected By a blue-hour dawn's eternal promise To be the One and only One, Your Adam, my Eve, naked Eden-outcasts Now heirs defiant, reclaiming paradise lost As equals in the very midst of Omnipotence.

Tao

Between Yin and Yang, Diving like a white dolphin, Gray into a black ocean, I searched for you in deep emotional waters Of attention-deficit seas, And discovered only uncertainties: Human chrysalis, translucent woman Vestigial memory, mutated desire Secret kiss, penumbral face Veiled eyes, remnant love Residual laughter, phantasmal lover Phosphorescent lust, quantum of hurt Dreamsicle sky, Aurora twilight Shadowed sculpture, disappearing sketch Opaque mirror, moving number Floating symbol, music of leaves Nebula vapor, hermetic genie Blind fingers, mysterious eyebrows Blurry movie, unfocused sun Anesthetized mind, paresthetic touch Borborygmal sound, limbic thought Deaf heart, oblique symmetry Clouded star, camouflaged existence Stardust tornado, hazy galaxy Hypnotic diamond, supernova glare Fog of birth, mirage of death Opalescent fish, turquoise air Quicksilver hair, wraith of bees Concealed bone, petrified sea Jumbled jigsaw, fuzzy infinity

Enchanted voice, song of electrons Séance of flower petals, stamen of light Undelivered message, template of fate Dissolving dream, unfulfilled promise Cloak of entropy, shroud of confusion Unrequited need, firefly epiphany Subterranean locust, hidden amnion Unseen presence, mannequin trance Undiscovered terrain, clue of glance Catacomb whispers, imparted scent Enigma of hate, unsolved riddle Sealed letter, fantastic androgyny Unresolved dilemma, intriguing puzzle Malevolent intent, animal stare Chimera silhouette, cacophony of guilt Coma gibberish, imprinted chromosome Peregrination of refugees, invisible dimension Sentient rose, unraveling DNA Murmured lullaby, intuitive attraction Blue mood, tactile nuance Spiritual inertia, hand of anti-matter Mystic rain, vanishing youth Fading self, encrypted portal Bar-coded skin, subatomic nightmare Nano storm, crystal-lattice Heaven Syntax of water, echoed silence Arcane allusion, mythic mouth Smudged fingerprint, bipolar ice

Evaporating time, transitional space Transient hope, tangential wound Singed eyelash, smoke of regret Seer of continuum, magnetic beauty Tremulous joy, implied action Changeling serpent, Etruscan tomb Altered combination, subliminal poem Glowing mitochondrion, imploding mist Masqueraded kindness, anagram of I Ineffable faith, washed-out photograph Charismatic communion, mask of evil Muffled happiness, paradox of yes Oxymoron of truth, defervesced passion Denatured soul, melting snowflake Devolving Future, reflex of thunder Lightning chill, protean sensuality Obfuscated childhood, aura of Saints Forgotten birthday wish, unknown ancestor Meandering purpose, lost migration Iridescent rapture, ambiguous torso Conflagration of tears, subconscious urge Eclipsing moon, dissipating strength Prism of ideas, kaleidoscope of sleep Murky recall, tepid embrace Chylous ascites, illusion of being Blood necromancy, magical flower Unconscious god, palindrome of WOW Faceless automaton, shimmering web Turbid sensibility, coalescing pearl Cabbala inscription, cyber flux Oscillating destiny, morphing constellation Transparent image, unreal reality Faint petroglyph, receding flashback And a Trace of You.

Why I Write Poetry

To be the poet who whispered yes in your ear, that rainy October Sunday morning inside Chapalita's tiny bookstore, so long ago... where you stood, reading poetry beauty-lightning flashing silver across your eyes' turquoise listening sky your cherry blossom scented damp hair lilac-jasmine almond cascading down over your lily-of-the-valley blouse To be the little boy who hand picked 10 letters and surprised you with their just for you Mother's Day wildflower bouquet The one who proposed to you with a blue velvet boxed gold ring inscribed FOREVER YOURS and kept every word.

The grocery bag's brown paper rustling music that filled you with candy-apple anticipation The lover you had never met yet felt from our previous life together The voice that father-reassured you, yes, you are pretty To be the first to tell you True Love is a kiss forever remembered To share this child's bedtime prayer chalice held within my heart Christmas wished upon a star Yes, I write because of you, the book-umbrellaed girl, hurrying out into the rain, still seeing the dandelion yellow that made you smile.

Because The World

Because the world may become too real I bequeath this surreal shield of poetry Because sometimes people can be monsters I give you this little sword of big love Because things may get knutzy tutsy I share this word-respite from the rat race Because places can get krazy krowded I offer you shelter in this refuge of solitude Because life can seem a desert I pour you this tiny teacup poem brewed from the oasis wellspring of my heart Because you may feel down, I hold up the one of a kind beautiful-mirror-you Because life's a bitch and then you die I skip the pep talk and shout this warrior cry Because days may taste diet-bland I make you banana splits with XXX maraschinos on top Because you may think all this, baloney I flavor it fantabulous filet mignon Because you might be vegan I bake you a strawberry-rhubarb pie Because you may be too serious me do seriously silly faces for you Because you might be bored I cricket-heart sing a song for you Because you may seem ignored I raise my left eyebrow, intently Because you may think yourself Plain Jane I raise both eyebrows Because you may feel estranged I write you this strange love letter

Beautiful Wrinkles

The crow's feet of squinting Christ stepping into the sunlight The forehead furrows of Einstein sprouting his green theory The Shar-pei eyes of aging Auden wincing before Brueghel's Icarus drowning The machismo lines of Gable's cheeks in The Misfits, singing of the desert The wizened lips of O'Keeffe paint-speaking the language of lilies The elephantine fissures of John Merrick showing us compassion The tear-filled creases of Mother Teresa's face mirroring love's sacrificial self The sine waves of Da Vinci's self-portrait flowing like genius through his hair The birch bark of Geronimo's cupped hands gliding like canoes through Sand-Spirit waters The seductive crevices of Anna Magnani's eyes in The Fugitive Kind, inviting you to stay The brow pleats of Marie Curie, raised upon seeing radium glowing in the dark My mother's face of velvet crushed by worry over me The deep crevasse of my father's mouth in laughter, into which I fall, laughing And my own wrinkles: rivulets through which lightning flows.

Things of Beauty

A quiet-breathing place for Keats, away from the noisy lemon tree blooming in his chest and a warm blanket for Pasternak asleep on a sofa, freezing in Moscow, dreaming of Zhivago sponge bathing Lara Mayakovsky's swan song, sung on Brooklyn Bridge beneath the stars just past one o'clock Poe's Lenore, forevermore leaving through an open door leading into Nevermore Lorca's breeze through olive trees caressing his face at exactly 5 in the afternoon Baudelaire's dark Eros angel fluttering atop a sarcophagus, red fleurs du mal in her hair Ginsberg's silver bullet that saved howling America from her werewolf self Breton's wife's shoulders Champagne intoxicating him with mistress-pink desire Wordsworth's spontaneous overflow of emotion recollected in tranquility issuing forth daffodil waterfalls Dante's chess game strategy sacrificing his knight to regain his lost queen Eliot's dull facade near a pigsty luminous beneath the Mississippi River starlight of his St. Louis boyhood

Yeats' gyres, spiraling out of control like devolving DNA unraveling on the cellular floor Whitman's blade of grass thrust through heaven's open portal en garde with bodies electric a pair of 4-D glasses worn by Rilke to see beyond a 3-D world Sylvia's black electrical tape wrapped around the frayed cord of shocking memories Emily's friend she asked to answer life's knock on the door and say she wasn't home Homer's horse of Troy that word-carried him into its Immortal City Virgil's What was that all about? as to the value of his Aeneid for the illiterate Neruda's dream of becoming phosphorescent eagle perched in the mist of Machu Picchu Coleridge's laudanum REM, scanning Kubla Khan's face, eyes flashing thrice Rimbaud's meteoric poetry scintillating upon entry into rarefied atmosphere Burns' revelation from a field mouse portending his own mortality Desnos' imaginary friend in the death camps, with whom he often shared his poems and the Event Horizon that pulled stadiums of unknown poets into its black hole.

Self Portrait

Liquid masculinity preferring feminine company Pleasured by pleasing before being pleased Self-centered to a fault, yet easily laughs at himself Adept with a blade, bold when necessary Hurricane-centered in the blink of an eye Teary-eyed by Cathy's death bed scene Prone to rainy over sunny, night before day And October in lieu of July Migrates toward private, yet gravitates center stage Opinionated, but porous in politics Senses that sometimes love rejected doth love reject And hearts unsettled oft settle for second best A feel for words, movie magic and music Fashion intuitive, demurely liberal Light footed, able to carry a tune or two Naive about the talents of others Young at heart, knowing that's where home is A subscriber to the Art of science Given to hugs instead of handshakes More engaging, one on one At ease with I love you Feels humor is purdy dang paramount And tain't a feer'd $20 words Aunt-Sylvia said to have had the eyes of Christ Not overly self-absorbed (except this once) Recklessly empathetic, relates well with dogs Guilty of more than one bad habit Idealist by nature, realist by experience Adroit at opening and closing emotional doors True believer in the power of love And acutely aware of this dream called life.

Perfect Kiss

I felt it the first time we kissed and free fell face first through your lips' soft sky clouds within clouds softness within softness space within infinite space soundless us within us without time without world feeling the beauty of you becoming one within you pure ultimate lips falling in love

I Love Your Face I love your face, wrinkles, perfect body Your scarred wounds from surgery In thinness or fatness In first place or last In grace or sin In pigtails or a wig Bright-eyed bushy tailed And when you dream In sickness or full of kick In rain or sun, angry or fun When you're you, or me Rain or desert, red light or green When your eyes say come get it When your thighs say forget it You behind a mask, and me Still unable to fathom your mystery.

L' Heure Bleu “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

―Anais Nin

The Blue Hour parfum hesitates a turquoise tear, before falling cerulean through her hourglass night a mauve nocturne of low saxophone notes and amaretto sorrows echoing footfalls of younger years departing her dark almond-forest hair and she listens, eyes kept closed so as not to awaken a dream about to come true blossoming within herself an indigo rose unfolding lavender lovers pressed violet against her lips

Petite Mort

Tigress-striped by venetian-blind butter moonlight Your lunar body eclipses mine, corona solar flared: Little-death star: XXX-supernova searing my closed eyes' crushed Black velvet night's lightning-flashing sky And from an absinthe lust-lagoon gyzym dream An emerald sea vision of ivory-eyed Ulysses Chest-strapped to a tempest swept mast, Enraptured by a Siren song, surf foamed from A she-brine scented honey cove, beckoning me, Symphysis shipwrecked on a mons veneris shoal, Sex suspended in your femme-fatale fallopian depths.

The Beats

They were outside, looking inside out, blue-jeaned hipster rabbits always checking melted pocket watches and late for their 3 P.M. followed by Alice through the looking glass down the bunny hole, Daddy O a cappella be bop and Dion doo wop prequel black-bereted beatnik charismatics jazzy hazel-eyed behind dark shades bristling porcupine-quill goatees, Allen up at the mic. speaking in tongues a cunna nundrum sala famadon catnip, catnap, cool cat, kraaazy kat, man howling poems in smoke-filled psilocybin coffeehouse auditoriums of the karmic mind filled with hip congregations of black-leotarded stick-figured chicks with thin lips pursed by talk about Beat being the Cock of the Walk double entendres thrown from their mouths like dice coming up snake eyes turning into domino pips on the gleaming ivory faces of enraptured zealots chanting myoho renge kyo mantras swirling like eddies in a Ganges River of ears pulled downstream by ultimate life currents funneled into vortices of phonemic ecstasy bebop bongo pop, wowsville, man smack like Kerouac on Rt.66 vette-shotgunned, strung-out on morphemes mainlining Main Street America while somnambulist Neal delirious from white-line fever held the wheel steady and narcoleptic at 96.5

Like, Jack was never on the road, man.

He was the road. You dig?

Straight from the jacket, Jack, cracker jack Cadillac wrapped in Dali mohair inside a round Dada box floating above the post WWII mushroom cloud pushing obscene tsunami towards Fisherman's Wharf where Larry faced Alcatraz specters sentenced to float in fog for 30 years with time off for good behavior where the killer-crescendo A-bomb spark fractured the syntax of water and split the ripe commie watermelon of opiate Mao spilling red onto San Francisco's bluesy shore, its seeds spit out like AK bullets turning into swallowtail butterflies, midair, flying towards a sixties sky. where Gary felt seismic premonitions from Turtle Island 7.5 on the Pulitzer scale where Greg sat, reading Big Table Magazine, sipping from a bowl of alphabet soup whose letters spelled STRANGELOVE in French where Lenny violated aural taboos and broke the 12th commandment: Thou Shalt Not Curse in Public where Bill waited unaware cyber stalkers of the Future would leave his Naked Lunch dusty ignored on the shelves of forgotten bookstores superseded by internet man hunters tracking homero holograms lasered on virtual gas station bathroom dance floors finger-triggering high-octane pumps squeezed into hyper drive inside shadow parks where packs of immune-deficient werewolves prowled beneath an 80's moon where now millions forget to reminisce.

Flamenco Storm

Spanish rain stays mainly in the plains but tonight, lightning strikes the apartment upstairs carpet muffled furniture-thundering to make room for the Andalusian gypsy blue-eyed brunette's storm-swept red dress and nimbus-grey nyloned legs stiletto pitter-pattering the floor above me at first, a drizzle of staccato castanet claps and pony hooves clacking on hardwood slats, now torrential imperious lapis stares down pouring raven-hair gales hailing blue-rose duende petals flash flooding my corazón dream downstream deep-river pooled rainbow trout iridescence silver-shimmering pink through her fishnets.

Black Swan

Mistress midnight-bequeathed sacrificial voluptuary Swan Black, she feather-unfolds from the balcony's Curtained vestibule's velvet-red parted lips Descending wingspread down wide ivory stairs Onto lacustrine pheromone laden Bal Masque Celebrants' outstretched lascivious limbs Undulating lust-convulsive at her feet.

Serpent-hissing, hyena-jackaling, leopard-panting Dragon lizard diablo-moaning germinations Hushed by one, incarnate unknown Slow flame approaching over fire sand and blood: Scarlet matador sword, poised estocada Before her blossoming devil-orchid imperiousness Strangely supple-submissive soft to his touch Lifting your veil and taking you as my own.

Claudia

You are my summer, springtime shelter from the rain, Mediterranean Sea breeze, apple orchard whispering green Through the cherry trees wind-chiming my autumn leaves Blossoming primavera at your Christmas morning touch I am yours, you breathed, And I love-exhaled in your arms Saharan-sirocco frankincense yellow moon butterflies Butter-flutter-swept through your myrrh kissed hair Organza-silk veiled over your ivory tulle wedding dress Honeymoon-thigh rustling lilac lavender luna di miele Midnight shooting-star communions murmured-in-tongues I know you, by another name, Aura-haloed in a dark blue teal dress, Eyes starlight shimmering at the altar Where I dream of you, finger-wreathed by my ring.

Marlene

Blue Angel concave sculpted cheekbones cathedral-arc High above her voluptuous Teutonic pouting lips Dreamy-eyed Valkyrie inviting you to forever-sleep Thigh-embraced by her long-legged German winter Black Forest doe soft lying beside you: Solitary stag Head-erect in the cabaret-reverie cigarette mist Gazing upon a blonde-Siren femme fatale Posed in top hat and tails, singing Falling… in love again...

Startled to be caught in the cross hairs Of her ice-blue eyes piercing your heart Deep-ocean desire current-swept away Drowned in her tender Wagnerian love song

Isabella

She carries her mother's Swedish light Italian lantern glowing Blue Velvet night.

Eyes: dark cedar forest breathing...

Deep riverbank hazel-speckled pebbles Amber-memory flashing Viking-winter lovers Lying wildflower-wreathed by a Roman fire Desire-flickering beneath January starlight Cinnamon-kiss scented lips, cranberry cello-murmuring The Saddest Music in the World Snow-cardinal red suffusing her Linnea-listening hair Blue-grotto echoing Capri Sea nymph voices Rain-swept beyond nimbus-gray stratospheres Scandinavian whispering sun-genie espresso dreams Bella Donna granting wishes to all who savor beauty.

Sophia

Her feline summer-night tigress eyes Overlook the full moon hills of Rome Trembling the lemon trees’ olive leaves Sensing her Venus goddess-gaze upon them Blossomed from the same mama mia Italia earth Whose immortal Rose sweetens mortal dreams Shared by Carlo, Marcello, and Elvis Peach-arriving, plum-departing and strawberry-arriving Again, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow Orange in the early morning dream sky marketplace Faces, lightning-flashed off of spring-rain nectarines Awaiting the touch of a mother, and child Sun-dressed in blueberry polka dots Green-apple caressing bellissima cherry memories.

Marilyn

And so, we meet again, Norma Jeane, gaze-engaged on this cursor-blinking screen.

Another virtual Niagara cabin late night rendezvous, still mystique-unknowing you as you yourself, sexy doll enigma, pretty kitty posed upon a shelf.

You, Dear, one too many summers dearly departed.

Maybe a blue-mascaraed, golden-haired Helen, Paris-liaison arriving by starlit sea in a prior life.

A beauteous casualty of fame’s existential circumstance Perhaps. by chance, victimized by tragic happenstance.

You, courted by gentlemen who preferred blondes carnal caged inside a glamour photo page, movie-matinee peep showed by some that liked it hot who French kiss dreamt parting your # 5 scented lips and luv-chubbed your cherry-gartered thighs.

You, criticized for being such a difficult pupil, misfit for certain roles, too often rehearsal-late and for having trouble with your lines.

As if a rose could somehow be lessened by not having learned its lessons.

And in the grand scheme of things, it all now nothing means.

No one really knew the girl-poet you whose eyes forever sing crushed butterfly wings.

Ghost of James Dean

Along a dark, lonesome road outside Cholame, California James Dean hitches for a ride back home to mom in Indiana leather jacket, slung over his shoulder, starry pompadour, slightly tilted beneath a clear, Big Dipper sky and only drivers with poems in their eyes can see him, right thumb stuck out, squinting at the headlights.

So, I pull over the red 930 Turbo and yell, Hey, Jim! I'm a Hoosier.

Take the wheel.

Hendrix/Xmas

He was the dirt-poor Johnny B. Beste Black kid who never got a Red Ryder BB gun nor the beautiful 6 string His voodoo child hands dreamed of holding Broom-strumming tunes in his bedroom Until he became experienced, bold as love, Wah-Wah pedaling an Izabella Strat, standing next to her fire, Finger-fanning Zebra flames blazing all along the watchtower Hoochie Coochie rooster-crowing his hoodoo mojo Spellbound by a red-housed foxy lady, Stone freed from the chains of manic depression.

And now, high above the yuletide purple haze Star-Spangled night skies of America, The wind cries...~Jimi~

Nijinsky

Danseur-quadriceps flexed, he leaps to stars Comet-suspended among them: Constellation Panther Descending contoured muscle-night devouring shadows Black silk blindfolded over your eyes Absorbing the power-dance unleashed before you.

And all at once he is Faun: Seduction, crouched within himself; blue-music flames Lust engulfing Nymphs leaf-flickering silhouettes Trembling the late afternoon darkening woods Falling asleep, dreaming as puppet Petrushka Propped up by willow branches, swaying in the wnd Head bowed, gazing upon a marionette maker's mark Carved in his thigh, arboreal-amazed and woodgrain Perplexed at the bold Sartorius S engraved in his name.

Green Dream like a hummingbird caught in a butterfly net your love surprised me

Mamma Mia Put aside sin and forgiveness and have some spaghetti with me.

You be Lady and I'll be Tramp; we can even share a piece, our ears tickled by accordion fingers playing a little off key.

And in each other's eyes we'll chase butterflies that fly like tiny, blue mandolin notes carried away by a summer wind, and after we taste tiramisu I'll tell you again, how much I love you, and replace your collar with this gold-locket corazón and be your Valentine when all other hearts are broken in two.

Poor Little Poem What can a poor little poem do a movie can't better say, or a painting show a photo doesn't truer display, a voice sings music won't easier convey or words speak a look cannot better relay?

How's a poem to impress you?

Its little legs trying to keep up with the bigger strides of you.

Turn its empty pockets inside out to show you what it hasn't got?

Get attention with an ah-choo that never gets a bless you, go toe-to-toe with cell phones, T.V. DVDs, Internet, and Karaoke?

Get up on its hind legs and do a circus trick, or two?

All a poor little poem can do is hope to enrich you.

Skinny Dipping Star-glistened skin listening she steps tiptoed rippling the pond's deepening green dream tadpole-tickled toes touching seaweed mud-sunk under foot unbuttoning belly-buttoned memories placental-rustling bulrush cattails opening flood gates, swirling amniotic music awakening blue-river vena cava eddies aorta-whooshing a chorus of life: sentient sentient sentient

Good Poem in your heart of hearts you know what it is no one need tell you maybe won an award more likely, not it takes you somewhere deeper where you are a friend, speaking to thee seeking thy company the poem...of you

Teresa Genuflecting knees trembling her small hands lift wounded humanity like an offering white dove broken wings released into a black sky, suddenly flying: little magician of love.

I Believe I believe in the soul, and hear its cricket heart along starlit country roads in the child within who never grows old in the poem that sings alone in love and joy beyond sorrow in good and hope for tomorrow I believe in beauty and I believe in you.

Highway of Love Searching the Highway of Love I took an exit and found an entrance in your eyes.

My heart radio was turned off but your voice came through, singing my favorite song.

I unfastened my safety belt and let you take the wheel turning towards the dawn horizon fast asleep on your shoulder.

Wuthering Heights (1939)

The lights dim and curtain parts; Moor heather-scent little hands Opening yesterday's window Touching Heathcliff's winter heart Primavera rain swept by Cathy Dying in the bed before him And in her fading eyes, Glints from a distant shore A glimpse of eternity True love, eclipsed by two ghosts Prince of China, Princess of Yorkshire Young forever, together forever-one As the sun dims and curtains close.

Dwell Not Long On History

Dwell not long on history, biology, geology, or sophistry tell of your hopes and dreams and the flavor true love seems how you imagine a perfect kiss and what color you see as bliss if you believe love is loud or quiet, unlike the crowd.

Let's not talk of dead things but share life's little things and I will come to you across seas of Space and Time and Forever-Be your Valentine.

Synesthete

The orange sound of rain tapping against the windowpane awakens her from a Sunday dream about scrambled eggs and ketchup felt for breakfast the morning before prompting the pulling of covers over her head trying to ignore the alarm set for yellow 7 now a purple 6 next to the blue twins :44 and on time, she is dressed for church arriving to hear the middle C from an organ, splash green over the pews where she sits pondering a Madonna statue adorned in white and mauve veiled in violet incense that smells like music of perfume.

Dream # 19 Childhood hummingbird ghost-orchid sipping memory freed iridescent unfolding

You're An Onion You're an onion makes me cry happy tears peeling back memories still sharing the salad years me, lettuce, sometimes forked by your sharp words my love, a crouton, on occasion, you find hard to swallow and yet, you make me feel good, like that cherry tomato, just now, popped into your mouth.

Vengeful Love It's a word board game where forgiveness cannot be used; a litany of how you did it to me and how now I'll do it to you.

I read about it in a book; an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth, and was told to be careful for what I wished for because I just might get it.

And as you ranted and raved, I drew a blank tile, made an F and placed it next to U.

Puppy Love Giggles, wiggles and a puppy licking your face cuddles, bubbles and silly string strung all over the place new, shiny, fresh and clean, an April breeze through an apple tree yummy, funny and shaped like a jellybean tinsel, nilly willy thrown on a Xmas tree holding hands and tickles on the waist pink sprinkles on a birthday cake free, without troubles and rhymes with frubbles and a peppermint Be Mine Valentine

Unrequited Love A bull's-eye at which many eyes have thrown darts of love and always missed their mark A moving target only a marksman can scope in the crosshairs of his rifle which misfires An object of desire just beyond reach, a grail cup from which your lips will never drink A treasure map that X marks a phantom island, off which you drift like a ship without a sail A big-game trophy which turns on you, the hunted, wounded by her black-eyelash arrows

Sacrificial Love It takes away from itself to give to another and receives more in return a mother's gaze reflected from her newborn.

Vampire Love It feeds on the weak unable to resist its will eclipsing suns of souls while their bodies dream a spider on your neck blue-vein penetrating and you will become it unless salvation nipple-pressed erect against its boney chest and stake-shoved through its cold black heart.

Idealistic Love It's more vital than food, and pries your eyes away from the TV to me trying to talk to you a letter from Santa to a child who doesn't believe, and little hands leaving reindeer food under the tree you, understanding what I'm all about and me, not always having to spell it out always being true and never a cheat It lives in my head and is what I need

Mexican Lily of the Valley The little brown barefoot girl stands immaculate sun-drenched in her white wrinkled dress, looking out from the dung-bricked shack, and doesn't notice me or the taxi, passing by towards the terminal.

She's preoccupied with a bright, blue sky and big, silver bird landing on the runway. the same jet, an hour from then, in which I now ascend from Guadalajara wide-turning north towards Chicago.

And from the window I could see her below, still watching, like a daughter, guardian-angel luminous in the sunlight.

Mock Love It seeks excess with strangers and prefers trysts with twists A voyeur who likes to watch private poses of those it knows A lecherous lepidopterist pinning naked butterflies to his bed A Kink Meister whose convoluted swarming fantasies squirm in his head A deviant director with highly developed tastes for lurid liaisons and snakes embracing snakes A cruise missile headed towards you at Mach love

Tunnel of Love just us two kids in a little rusty boat stuck to a rickety rail ratcheted past soggy paper cups wet popcorn, bubblegum and pink sugar-stained cotton candy cones entering the Tunnel of Love waiting to light a kiss in the dark just Venice us in a gondola and the scarlet-scarfed gondolier leaning on his pole, crooning O Sole Mio as the orange peelings floated by just us, gliding by St. Mark's square and the pigeons startled into the air rising up through the air like a hundred hearts in love

Elegant Love It's at ease with itself and can laugh at a phart turns off the lights and is unafraid of the dark soft spoken and fixes what's broken me without money and you still calling me honey young, mature, and fluently demure satin, silk, and smells like milk lace, leather, tastes like wine and haughty naughty behind closed doors and all the fireworks in your Venice night eyes

Femme Fatale She kills with a glance; devours your soul, whole carries it inside her Chinese lantern glowing red dragon crescent moon's ivory dream mamba-black mascara encircling her sclera deflecting your gaze down her long fishnet nyloned legs stiletto-strapped ankle tattooed you: little bluebird, crushed in her python embrace.

Noir Necklace Its phantom stars orbit her alabaster neck like imploded suns revealing their essence the Tahitian nestled near her breast a coalesced quicksilver-night luster imbued with hues of pink and blue skies behind clouds of dolphin-green iridescence the talisman touching her clavicle black as an ebony spider-idol's onyx eye pitiless, reflecting your gaze imprisoned in its midnight mirror the round shadow over her sternum a teardrop of Satan Lucifer's dying light's last illumination shed for himself as he fell from grace and the indigo sea-genie lying between the first and second ribs jealously guards its territory with a squid's malevolent sight black pearls, connected by a string: our hidden worlds, dark dreams colliding.

Dirty Pretty

Komodo dragon tattooed, Armed and dangerous, Her bella donna goth pomegranate glossed lips And gun smoke grey eye-shadowed eyes Belie innocence fawn-wounded within Her blood sullied springtime Blossoming fecund black rose thorns Pierce-protecting sacred sanctuary seashell Whispered secrets and pink dolly dreams, Scarlet-stained angel wing sacrosanct, And for no one impure to dare step barefoot.

Anti-Intellectual Like a vampire exposed in a sunlit church I entered the library and burst into flames near the desk librarian fainting straight away.

The sprinkler system malfunctioned but an alert student activated the alarm as I whooshed to the fire extinguisher that did not work, and I panicked, running in “Whoop-oop-oop-oop!” circles past a volume of Dante's Inferno and archives of the Dewey Decimal System, pausing by a copy of The Great Flood before bee-lining to the Geography Section and diving into The World's Great Oceans.

Joan of Work Too smart for her own good, she was burned at the stake for heresy at work lived in Phoenix, with a saguaro who made her itchy, bitchy, and wary of spiders and sombreros last seen, leaving the mountains of unfinished office stuff, reincarnated as a cowgirl wearing red boots and headed for the open range where I hear her, now and then, giggling in the desert.

Rosie Riveter, Harry Homemaker

Every batman has his Robin, every batgirl her Karen, featherless friends of feathered gender-benders animus-anima birds of a feather flocking together Mr. Mom and Mrs. Dad who used to wear the family pants, now dons pantsuit or skirt. policewomen, female doctors, Mr. Secretary, Madam President XY sandaled senator of ancient Rome now XX high-heeled Speaker of the House ruby lip sticked beneath the Capital Dome wary male chauvinists, finding it scary dating weapons-trained gals in the military; neo-suffragettes who don't forget the bold things their suffering sisters did feminists who find it hard to believe Adam's-rib Eve's fait accompli; history presumably written by a man rendered differently by a woman's hand fierce hunter-gatherers, subdued by lover-nesters Lysistrata-leveraging to get what their after

Mother Russia, Father Germany card-sharp Matriarchal societies trumping Patriarchal hierarchies Evita, Elizabeth, Juan and Henry VIII Machiavellian chess-game opposed where Queen always checkmates King Machismo metros, machisma Amazons, masculine body-language women out-shouting effeminate-voiced men chivalry is dead guys who dare not condescend to open a door for them, as girls can do it just fine for themselves ladies who used to sip Pink Squirrels, Grasshoppers, Tom Collins, Amaretto Stone Sours, 7-7's, Gin and Tonics, Vodka Gimlets, and Chardonnays, replaced by Barr-body drinking women who prefer beer, over Rum and Coke, and tattooed, feral ones smoking menthol slims who deign to feign indifference to its significance.

Nympho She extrapolates love from a touch, so much so that even her dress becomes her lover and when wearing leather she can barely conceal their relationship.

Canary A little yellow posed in a yellow pose is all the canary knows small sun voice emanating bright from its throat

Maria The blue genie hiding in your eyes grants all wishes to one who sees its true nature and once revealed, recedes unseen deep within the brunette-forest hair Eros waiting Braille she-wolf to be read by these blind fingers

SuicideGirl She exists beyond our grading system, Wild flower blossoming among The dead roses heaped at her feet Young love striding naked through streets of hate Resists non-adhesive to sticky labels Water-repellent to our acid rain Thrives inside barbed wire enclosures Uncategorizable by our taxonomy Saint-Sebastian shielded to barbs Impervious to others' judgments Indefinable to definitions Oblivious to didacticisms Immune to sleeping-sickness ennui Sacred Heart tattoo invincible to superegos Mamba, shed your skin.

Poker Mouthed

To tell Tells, Texas Holdem players may be: Flattering Sure are purdy sunglasses.

Disarmingly Charming Hope the river makes it more better.

Countrified You must be one of them card sharks I heer’d about.

Truthful Sure hope I win me some money.

Confrontational Never look a cobra in the eye; it might spit.

Erudite Vini vidi vici to you, too, Tex. Provocateur Guess you think you're faster than Johnny Ringo, huh?

Humorous Sometimes I just kilded myself.

Loquacious Yep, yep, yep...yep.

Facetious Best O' luck, Pardner.

Self-effacing Ooh... I'm wastin' my life away (to the tune of " I Love a Rainy Night") Egomaniacal I didn't think it was possible, but I out did myself, again.

Diversionary Hey, look! A Bird!

Sarcastic Must be hard, being a legend in your own mind n'all.

Philosophical C'est la vie, que sera sera, and that's the way the cookie crimples.

Cryptic I got me a horse outside with your name on it.

Deceptive My bullets are deadlier than Wild Bill's Condescending I feel your pain, Brutha.

Witty You best watch your mouth; I know I am.

Engaging I'm the kinda cow poke who don't take no prisoners.

Irreverent Silence is golden, but blabbin' be platinum. and Apocalyptic Gentleman, I'm all in. And you're goin' down with me.

Music Nobel

The Swedish Academy today announced the winner of the inaugural Nobel Prize in Music awarded to a musician and composer known as Orpheus, who with his lyre, was cited for: quintessentially producing the most idealistic and exquisitely beautiful expressions of sound ever appreciated by the human ear, evoking the hauntingly, profound echoes from an immortal Past that continue to serenely resonate above the dissonant Present The black-tie ceremony was accompanied by a banquet recital from the artist, during which a seemingly seismic event was noted by several attending dignitaries, including Royalty, and later confirmed by those from the kitchen, that the silverware had trembled and moved across tables as if on its own accord.

Brother In our time, windows closed, kept out the cold, bereft of a thousand yeses and again, one more yes. proximal womb blood within veins, embracing a lifetime’s yearnings.

We two are one.

Cimmerii When Life runs naked through wheat fields I catch her thighs and take her hostage to the Cimmerii

The Sea (for Emily) I have never seen the sea, yet imagine how it must be: a deep, wet mystery warm water whispering to my listening body.

Georgette Magritte Dreams Hubby Rene's Golconda, The Listening Room, and Tomb of the Wrestlers

How sour tasting, her green-apple name floating nimbus in a gray Golconda sky and all the twin t's, raining down like Italian daggers funeral umbrella-handle t's, gripped by her white-gloved hands, claustrophobic outside the gargantuan wrestler's tiny tomb double tt stiletto silhouettes, minnow darting shadows across the bedroom windowpane, netted by seine-patterned wallpaper fleur de lis umbral L's overlapping V's, black onyx mirrored from her nightstand's patent leather Vuitton purse raven-perched next to the enormous, solitary Rose immensely listening to the storm.

Preparation for Marriage 101 The course was given by an Augustinian who instilled in us high school seniors the importance of the little things to the future objects of amorous attentions; an unexpected rose, chocolates, a Valentine's card, an opened door, extra patience at special times of the month, and a receptive ear for commiseration, followed by theories of love, closed-mouth kisses and a healthy disdain for the lascivious, lest feral, subcortical carnal forces wreak emotional carnage and indelibly tattoo our untainted souls.

I Poem

I, I, I, I I, I, I, I I, I, I, I I, I, I, I I, I, I, I, Ay yi yi!

Barra De Navidad 65'VW careening down the mountain Pacific Ocean mistaken for blue sky continuous heaven palm trees forest fire-smoldering on the beach salt-filled nostrils fish scent darkness humongous spider hugging the movie brick wall bus depot at 11:42 we discovered a conch, sweltering-slept in the second-floor room honeymoon-overlooking phosphorescent nocturnal organisms churning in the surf

Coins A hand from the Past touches mine through this Mercury dime once pocket-intimate with a stranger's thigh A steel penny, during a darker time, change-purse transported inside a purse to a clandestine destination, reason unknown A 3-dollar Gold Piece, Jesse James paid for bullets to stop a train A denarius, Christ used to make a point An Indian cent, General Custer tossed in his head at Little Big Horn, tails to stay, heads to go A Buffalo Head nickel, Buffalo Bill plunked down for a beer at the Bison Ghost Saloon A drowned Spanish sailor's doubloon swallowed by a shark Coins: portals awaiting us; the rest, mere investment.

Incurable Romantic

The doctors all agreed: no hope for me; no Rx for the vexing, quixotic malady nor elixir to abate the terrorizing empathy nor silver bullet for the howling love nor holy water to exorcise the mea culpas nor incantations by which to lift the curse nor potions to dispel the romantic notions nor spells to quell the emotion commotion nor antibiotics to quiet the riotous passion nor panacea for the haunting beauties nor antidote for the doting, big dope of me Seeking a second opinion, I got up to leave when a venerable doctor pulled me aside and told of a virtual, brain transplant performed in France that might have half-a-chance of curing me.

So, I went, and returned in remission, Relapsing during a fugue on a rainy Sunday afternoon, finding myself in a pet store, holding a puppy when a canary began to sing, and I started to see the world again, a teeny tiny bit more green.

Stonehenge

Stone shards still stand round its shattered Past Mirroring the ancient, arthritic dead, Shape shifting beneath the grass root's red-deer hair Entangled antlers dropped by numb, digging hands One wet November afternoon under an overcast sky.

And all this; Mission towards Remembrance: Headstones of winter bluebell echoes Sarsen sundial mist of glacial souls Ouroboros of snow, equinoctial tiara Askew on the head of Mother Earth Oak and blood-mortared memory Butter moon's Nightjar-wing silhouette Buried warrior's rib-cage upheavals Frozen carousel of lightning swords Wind-chimed ancestral sea voices Mountain-wreathed bride of Brittany.

And the tourists come and go Speaking of things from long ago…

Past graffiti, rock-stuck pink bubblegum, Dom-luvs-Betty scrawled cupid notes And flax-linen white robed Druids Forming circles, holding hands and mistletoe, Past archaeologists, scrutinizing Blue Stone, The nocturnal savvy, awaiting extraterrestrials And cognoscenti, celebrating solstice Heel Stone While we, never having touched you, Reach up like your blind fingers Reading the Braille of stars.

Ring Nebula

Sidereal ouroboros: benzene-ring serpentine dream primeval diadem's plasmatic stardust interstitial space within space sinuous-interstice rivulets' ectatic-syncytial synesthesia nebula-galactic oracular light-stamen comet germinating night nascent-star recombinant asteroidal syntax pristine progeny bearing parabolic penumbra protean coronal star-flower origami reaching out to us, immense and unfolding calyceal corpus callosum carbonite-rostral before prismatic cirsoid amygdala myriad stellar wraiths; dark matter-reticular cisternae lacustrine lacuna's serpentine vortices vertiginous helical-phantasmal maelstroms crepuscular-incandescent star fire resplendent mitochondrial lapis-flame lattice febrile quantum-prion conflagrations supernova umbral chiaroscuro

Author Notes

Cover, Femme drawing by D.L.W. Pesavento, 1965 " Lover Unknown " "Wicked Game" Chris Isaak's song. “choral reef" coral pun "Why I Write Poetry" " Chapalita" / beautiful suburb of Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico where I lived "Bluebird" "back-door dog door" My kitchen's back door (with a dog door) leading out onto the back porch. " Where you choose, from 28 coffee cups" A poet friend's friend who had scores of coffee mugs hanging on the kitchen wall, each labeled a different country. Arriving guests were asked to pick a cup, and conversations would proceed from the ones chosen.

"Diabolique" "Mata Hari thighs" "In 1903, Mata Hari moved to Paris, where she performed as a circus horse rider..." "idolatrous, velvet-hooded cloaked in black" Henry Wales, a British reporter's account of Mata Hari's execution (as a German spy) 1917.

"She was led at daybreak from her cell in the Saint-Lazare prison to a waiting automobile and then rushed to the barracks where the firing squad awaited her. She drew on her stockings, black, silken, filmy things. She placed her high-heeled slippers on her feet and tied the silken ribbons over her insteps. She arose and took the long black velvet cloak, edged around the bottom with fur and with a huge square fur collar hanging down the back, from a hook over the head of her bed. She placed this cloak over the heavy silk kimono which she had been wearing over her nightdress. Her wealth of black hair was still coiled about her head in braids. She put on a large, flapping black felt hat with a black silk ribbon and bow. Slowly and indifferently, it seemed, she pulled on a pair of black kid gloves. Then she said calmly: 'I am ready.'

"Kiss me, Esmeralda" Victor Hugo's Notre-Dame de Paris (The Hunchback of Notre-Dame) "Self Portrait" "adept with a blade" surgeon's scalpel "teary-eyed by Cathy's death-bed scene" Merle Oberon's 1939 Wuthering Heights movie performance “Marilyn” movie allusions “Niagara” “Gentleman Prefer Blondes” “Some Like it Hot” “The Misfits” "Ghost of James Dean" his, a silver 55' 550 Porsche Spyder, mine, an 87' red 930 Turbo "The Beats" author photo, 73' Mexico, “Big Table” mag. edited by my UIC poet/professor Paul Carroll "Rosie Riveter" Norman Rockwell's painting Rosie the Riveter "Mexican Lily of The Valley" little girl seen along the periferico (outskirts) road to Guadalajara's airport "Nijinsky' "Faun" L'après-midi d'un faune (The Afternoon of a Faun) ballet, "Petrushka" Petrushka ballet.

Nijinsky lithograph by DLW Pesavento, 1967

“Things of Beauty” explores the dichotomous nature of beauty; a “thing” of eternal joy and refuge, or of sorrow and reverential terror.

Rilke eloquently expressed beauty' s duality: Duino Elegies, The First Elegy “Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the Angelic Orders? And even if one were to suddenly take me to its heart, I would vanish into its stronger existence.

For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror that we are still able to bear, and we revere it so because it calmly disdains to destroy us…” a quiet-breathing place for Keats away from the noisy lemon tree growing in his chest John's Endymion Book I “A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.”

Death from TB in Rome (Italy, land of the lemon trees) first line of Goethe's “Mignon” Know’st thou the land where lemon-trees do bloom, Lemon-yellow painted outside walls of a Tuberculosis sanatorium that I visited near Guadalajara, Mexico /tree/ chest X-ray reticular appearance of TB and a warm blanket for Pasternak freezing in Moscow, asleep on a sofa, Zhivago-dreaming sponge bathing Lara Boris' Dr. Zhivago. Shunned in Communist Russia.

Unable to accept Nobel Prize for Literature.

Mayakovsky's swan song, sung on Brooklyn Bridge beneath the stars just past one o'clock Vladimir's poem “Brooklyn Bridge.”

His last poem “Past One O'clock” purportedly found inside his coat after his suicide.

“You must have gone to bed.

The Milky Way streams silver through the night.

I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams I have no cause to wake or trouble you.

And, as they say, the incident is closed.

Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind.

Now you and I are quits. Why bother then To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.

Behold what quiet settles on the world.

Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.

In hours like these, one rises to address The ages, history, and all creation.”

Poe’s Lenore, forevermore leaving through an open door leading into Nevermore Edgar's “The Raven” Lorca’s breeze through the olive trees caressing his face at exactly 5 in the afternoon Federico's “Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias” Baudelaire's dark angel fluttering atop a sarcophagus, red fleurs du mal in her hair Charles' Fleurs du Mal (Flowers of Evil) “Sepulcher” Ginsberg’s silver bullet that saved howling America from her werewolf self Allen's poem “Howl” Breton's wife's Champagne shoulders intoxicating him with blue desire Andre's poem “Freedom of Love Wordsworth’s spontaneous overflow of emotion recollected in tranquility becoming daffodil waterfalls William's The Prelude, edition IV, of Lyrical Ballads “Ode to a Daffodil”

Dante’s chess game strategy sacrificing his knight to win back his lost queen Alighieri's The Divine Comedy Leaving Virgil in Purgatorio, to join Beatrice in Paradiso.

Eliot’s dull façade near a pig sty luminous under the starlight of his St. Louis boyhood Thomas' Four Quartets, “Little Gidding “(I, 2nd stanza) “If you came this way, Taking the route you would be likely to take From the place you would be likely to come from, If you came this way in May time, you would find the hedges White again, in May, with voluptuary sweetness.

It would be the same at the end of the journey, If you came at night like a broken king, If you came by day not knowing what you came for, It would be the same, when you leave the rough road And turn behind the pig-sty to the dull façade’ Yeats’ gyres, spiraling out of control like DNA unraveling on the cellular floor William's "gyres" and cyclical history, “The Second Coming “ Double helix (spirals of Deoxyribonucleic Acid), anarchic devolution, e.g. cancer Whitman’s blade of grass thrust through Heaven’s open portal en garde with bodies electric Walt's Leaves of Grass and “I Sing the Body Electric” a pair of 4-D glasses for myopic Rilke to see beyond a 3-D world New Poems I and II Sylvia's black electrical tape wrapped around the frayed cord of shocking memories Plath's “Daddy” her suicide

Emily's friend who answered life's knock on the door and said she wasn't home Dickinson's reclusiveness Homer's word-horse of Troy that carried him into its Immortal City The Iliad Virgil's answer to the question as to the value of his Aeneid for the illiterate Publius' febrile disillusionment, Brundisium, The Death of Virgil by Hermann Broch Frost's cold thoughts of his father waiting along a snowy field at sunset Robert's “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening “ “Waiting Afield at Dusk “Troubled paternal relationship Neruda's dream of becoming phosphorescent eagle, perched in the mist of Machu Picchu Pablo's “The Summits of Machu Picchu” a Chilean neighbor's account of Neruda's belief in his own reincarnation as an eagle Coleridge's laudanum REM sleep scanning Kubla Khan's face eyes flashing thrice tincture of opium use Samuel's “Kubla Khan” OR A VISION IN A DREAM. A FRAGMENT.” “In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea...

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honeydew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.”

Rimbaud's meteoric poetry scintillating upon entry into rarefied atmosphere Arthur's A Season in Hell Burns' revelation from a field mouse portending his own mortality Robert's “To a Mouse” Dylan's raging, beatific ethanolic vision sobered by sleep Thomas' “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night” Alcoholism, and untimely death Desnos’ imaginary friend in the death camps, with whom he often shared his poems Robert's internment in concentration camps, Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Flossenburg, and Terezin, (poems written there) and his demise.

LAST POEM Terezina Concentration Camp, May 1945 I have dreamed so much of you, Walked so often, talked so often with you, Loved your shadow so much.

Nothing is left me of you.

Nothing is left of me but a shadow among shadows, A being a hundred times more shadowy than a shadow, A shadowy being who comes, and comes again, in your sunlit life. and the Event Horizon that pulled stadiums of unknown poets into its black hole.

Event Horizon: astrophysical phenomenon, point of no return, at which a black hole's gravity pulls all matter into it, even light, making it invisible.

"Hendrix/Xmas" allusions: "Voodoo Chile" "Are You Experienced" “Bold as Love” "Let Me Stand (Next to Your Fire)” “All Along the Watch Tower” “Foxy Lady” “Manic Depression” "Purple Haze" "Star-spangled Banner” and "The Wind Cries Mary"

Acknowledgments

My heartfelt thanks go out to the gracious editors of the following publications for flying these little kites in their beautiful skies:

Boston Literary Magazine: "Web" Caesura: "Ghost of James Dean" Catalonian Review: "Georgette Magritte Dreams Hubby Rene's Golconda, The Listening Room, and Tomb of The Wrestlers" Concise Poetry: "Green Dream" Danse Macabre: "Lover Unknown," "Why I Write Poetry," "Nijinsky," "Black Pearls," "Ring Nebula," "Rosie Riveter, Harry Homemaker," "Late-Night Cinema Extraordinaires" Down in the Dirt: "Rosie Riveter, Harry Homemaker," "Mamma Mia" Full of Crow: "Skinny Dipping," "Unrequited" Horror Zine: "Vampire Love" L'Allure des Mots: "L'Heure Bleu," "Juju," "Petite Mort," "Bluebird Rain," "Finger Whispers" The Legendary: "Mamma Mia," "Things of Beauty," "Flamenco Storm," "Diabolique" The Literary Bohemian: "Music Nobel" Muddy River Review: "Coins" Origami Condom: "The L Word," "Joan of Work," "Synesthete," "Nympho," "Of Hendrix, at Xmas," "Mamma Mia," "Mock Love" The Penwood Review: "Teresa" Troubadour 21: "Lover Unknown" Underground Voices: "Things of Beauty," "The Beats," "Incurable Romantic," "Beautiful Wrinkles" "Anais Nin: L' Heure Bleu" Whispers from the Unseen: "Blue Roses"

Front cover: Femme by D. Pesavento, 1967

Mini Bio:

D. Pesavento poetry-dreams from the Heartland of America's deep wellsprings, Ulysses-like chest strapped to a tempest swept mast, enraptured by sultry Siren voices calling out to him in the night. Instilled with mysticism early on, he nurtured an innately empathetic sense of the wondrous. From 15-20, performed as lead singer for regional Rock bands, Lost Generation, Xtremes, Fish, (5/5 Battle of The Bands, thanks to Jack, the red headed, noble-Roman nosed Scandinavian drummer) and a.k.a. "The Cat" purred the Blues in Chicago's South Side Green Lantern bar. At 19, Explored the Eternal City, left trace fingerprints on a Sistine Chapel fresco, stood face-to-faces with the damned in Michelangelo's The Last Judgment, beheld the Pieta's profound sorrow, deciphered Cupid notes carved in wood atop St Peter's Basilica dome and descended underground, ankle-brushed past subterranean Papal sarcophagi, hunched over through labyrinthine catacomb tunnels illuminated by cloistered clusters of candle-carrying little nuns, heads heavy bowed in prayer like January snow-laden black dahlias.

City of Light fire-swallowed Cognac after midnight, last call heart-burned spilled out from dance club Tabac, stumbling scarlet-face flushed beneath an impending dawn's cerulean sky feral-atmospheric reeking of Pigalle fleurs du mal scented lairs, sniffing open-air market soil smeared carrots, dew-rouged strawberries, arm-pit pungent garlic, onions, sweaty cabbages, radishes and fresh fish brine aromatic-urea rising up from nicotine stained streets, and maddened, crossed the Seine. Kaleidoscopic vision-quest swam through late 60's London Piccadilly Circus psychedelic-kinetic pigment splattered discotheque convulsive dance-scapes to the tune of Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love" and vertiginous body washed up onto a Whisky à Go-Go maelstrom-swirling foreign shore. Barnaby-Street clothed sat in quiet contemplation in a Westminster Abbey pew, and personalspace elbow jostled by swarms of ninja-tourist shutterbugs armed with Nikons. Florence slow-danced on an Arno River barge at sunset basking in glow-worm lemon lime luciferin and dragon-plasma magenta Chinese lantern auras, eating watermelon beneath a late summer full butter moon. Stubbed a toe at the foot of David.

Temporarily blinded by Chartres supernova stained-glass light shards, goose-bumped by Notre Dame de Paris shadows and dizzied by Cologne cathedral spires. Shared Champagne androgynous charades in Brussels, Belgium cabarets, clanked cold steins in German beer gardens and tête-à-tête titillated at Munich's One-OneDeuce. Literary influences are a cosmopolitan mix of myriad voices, including Quasimodo, Montale, Ungaretti, Aleixandre, Vallejo, Lorca, Neruda, Paz, Breton, Supervielle, Eluard, Seferis, Rilke, Yeats, Eliot, Shelley, Keats, Coleridge, and Blake. Don can be seen along the Indiana shores of Lake Michigan, writing poems and throwing them to the wind.