[x]

I hurtle through scattershot stars
secret unseen in a liquid night
silent and eternal cold
across seven centuries
my heart resounds in yours
silver-tipped fingers
like ten blind eyes
splay and seek
that core of warm
never found
past Mercury, past Mars
my orbit echoes yours
We never meet
but I return
again and again

Seventy-FiveWhen spring is impossible to recall
except in the eyes of fresh-hearted young
I will seek a new tale in the grey autumn woods.

Bitlet 09 - PoliticsWhen I speak of Carolina, cicadas sing in my memory
and I want to shout so you, little sister, might understand
the way a creature smaller than my hand can stand
with its brethren and shake my arrogance, how each
of their voices alone are just the sliver of a whisper -
but singing together they become thunder.

three reasons i am a bastard

1. to bury in your bed to chin, noose from hands, ideas, or sheets, then drown and drown

2. to anchor an emerging fetish, for synergies unknown, fevering for the subaltern
to the grotto in the vacuum, to the drug beneath the nightdress, to find this sundew
herringbone-aligned just below their poltergeist, their snowy wraith, their voice of skin,
leaving
from yours, tearing
into . . .

3. to know that we cannot know a thing with our mother-given mind, and still be
satisfied,
alive

(it is not a dream if it is everyday)i no longer have the gall
to write letters to my universe.
it’s stony quiet,
all around.
it’s possum eyes in headlights,
abandoned chandeliers
frozen
in Victrola dust.

some tireless pamphleteer
has wrecked this room
with motorized felicity!
there must be
at least
one bill for every breath,
paper
mountains
of indifference.

and now, i see
you are the same.
you’re no magic
planet. i will
get up,
some time tomorrow,
mid morning, when the bugs have died,
and drive to work
and i won’t think
there’s anything
that ever came
before that sun.

and there,
i’ll trade in shibboleths
and type in pointy let

Garage saleI wonder if it will get easier,
a thingless life.
Body of one,
room for none.

For sale, cheap:
A PlayStation 2, used.
An ambition, abused.
Four walls, beaten.
One lamb shank.
...no, that's eaten.
Ninety-seven DVDs, watched.
Three novels, botched.
One brain, worn.
One heart, torn.

& other things, call for details.

Everything must go.
Like that girl in her waist coat
who called herself my wife.
Like that man in his leather jacket
who told me how to live my life.

Pox in SocksA pox on rigid writing!
Use your adjectives adverbs
gerunds similes:
"I languidly waltz in water
like a turkey waltzing in sand"

Teach me how to be Type B

It is but a flight of fancy,
to write without worry
Turkey talk makes me nervous, though,
as does the thought of dancing

Teach me how to stay in step

Turkey trot or hippopotamus tango?
One-two-three; I step on toes
I can't fling my arms or shake my legs
without apologies, without looking back
to see who is watching,
who else might be waltzing

Teach me how to hokey-pokey,
help me turn myself around

Only if you teach me how to lead
Five-six-eight; I'm always skipping

The ruleShe wouldn't let him make love to her on the bed. Beds are for sleeping she told him adamantly, when he tried to lead her there. Caught in the grip of a feverish, school-boy lust, Mekhi didn't care. It was enough that she wanted to have sex with him at all. He'd do it on a mound of shit if that's what she wanted. Inside a meat locker. Any damn where.

When it was over and they lay on the rug in post coitus languor, he found himself curious about her no bed rule. "So you've never done it on a bed?" he asked, voice hushed at 2AM.

She was a long time in answering. Her voice was soft, on the edge of sleep as she confided, "Not since I was ten ye

Vietnam, PapaI think you must have
missed me, right as I was coming in.
The rest of your life spent
serving a sentence to a country you already
defended, cells multiplying as college kids
protested your thousand-yard eyes.

Politicians used great men to
play country chess over the Mekong, shoving
Saigon lovers and colors through the
barrels of your guns. You were one of the great,
lost in gold October, passing by moments before
I barreled through. It's not fair the only
name I could put to you is Swamp Rat,
not Grandpa. Secret agent orange destroyed
more than just your cells.

I'm still going to remember
hazy, azure moments I was too late
to see, but if I

The Cat MistookNo zebra
but the old mare;
she bumps the stall door,
seeking sun with blind eyes.

Not wolves,
only the neighbor's dogs
drunk with escape;
the ferment of wet woods on a grey day.

The cat mistook itself for a tiger,
not knowing that the caught vole
was one of a vast race--
that it had happened before.

Stick-MenStick-men with blazing matchheads march across the table, single file, towards a glass of water. Latin incantations are said by a sole stick man by the water. It's a mass suicide. One by one they scramble up the slippery glass and jump in, their flames extinguished. This is the way of the world. Someone has placed lilacs on the table. I don't know why. This is the way of the world. I am their god, yet I only observe. It is not for me to determine their end, only to watch, and keep from getting splinters in my fingers. The lilacs smell good over the smoke. It smells like rain outside.

SaltBefore you were ready
you took to the sea
and I smiled at you
with the fine white teeth
of a shark

Before I was ready
your hands harbored me
in deep water and stars
where my wrinkled soul
swaying and slow
opened its foam-grey eyes

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Shadowby *beeinthebottle

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2013 *beeinthebottle

1/1/2013. A snapshot poem.

`jade-pandora Apr 22, 2013

Hello! This wonderful piece of yours has been featured here: [link]

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*beeinthebottle Apr 22, 2013 Writer

Thank you! It's a lovely feature.

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`jade-pandora Apr 22, 2013

You're most welcome, dear poetess.

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~neuroticmnemonic Jan 12, 2013 Writer

I like this kind of stuff. Quick images of long, long stories...

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*beeinthebottle Jan 12, 2013 Writer

It sort of writes itself. (Who am I fooling? This one was harder than it should have been.)

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~007-seriously-serial Jan 8, 2013

Whoa, this is quite gorgeous!

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*beeinthebottle Jan 9, 2013 Writer

Thanks -- I'm glad you liked it.

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!luisrobertes Jan 8, 2013

it's nice.

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*beeinthebottle Jan 8, 2013 Writer

Thank you!

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~pseudometry Jan 6, 2013 Writer

And a grand snapshot it is. Lingers on after it's read, which is always a nice effect to affect, isn't it?

It's as if single silver earrings and moonlight and shadows were made to be together.

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