- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Man on Mars
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I didn't care to fall in.
Push your hair out of your eyes
Graceful- my-Heart-
(that my affectionate advice)
And the stirring rod
Clinked ever so geometrically
Against that glass
With its profound spatial soundness
Your planet
Your hand
the shape of your fingers
Curving around the lucky vessel
I was touched by the softness
One millesecond my
Fingertip grace
Your virgin on a chain
The sound of the metal
Complaining so close to your
Sweet little bird
Chirping beating
You wouldn't let me
Shout into a funnel.
You wouldn't curse me
With an empty row of boxes.
Not you, never.
Truth. Dare. Double dare.
If I look through the liquid
Kaleidoscope I can pretend
We brushed fingers, bloods, organs
I can pretend there is not someone someone
With X's, with bells
Even that little hollow circle-
that hardness
that has become painful familiar
Even if I am deaf, dumb,
Nearly shapeless while you are
wearing those old dogeared
3-D glasses
I will dream that one day
I could be seen
In natural light
With two eyes
And every bit of skin between us.
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