Déja-Vu

Let us be the seams of kisses

Within the garment of love

And foamy dreams in the night’s

Shadowy net of carp

My Laura of laurels

 

Copulating clouds

In trousers of stars

Silent affair of the portico

And the road peppered

With milk-cartons, green colts

Two women dreamed they were

Carousels, mares entwined

Conjoined song rising from insomnia

And Lachesis’ scissors

Love is two obscurities

Devoured a sole match

And interrogated by the leafy tunnel of lies

 

My soul is a rollercoaster

Barefoot in oily portals to wards

Abstinent flesh infiltrated by sunray, stamen, sting

Unleavened phantoms lovemaking in the Ferris wheel

And the circles of arms, spinning oblivion into jars

Cutting hearts into rivers of song

 

Your eyes are but tormented manors

Aching rails,

Destiny breaking loose on jasmine, spindles, needles

I’m a thimble, a thorn, you are a star

 

Lust is a stereo sedating pinwheels

Seducing pines of drunkenness

Love is but an envious gramophone

Half comatose, ashen lips

She goes crazy without the amusement or climax

And hangs herself in the gallows of her tresses

With a pamphlet to Venus’s carillons

 

Transients of shadows in amorphous trains

Destined to some Wonderland

Neglect the world in sepia

And each child bloodied,

Throttled with coming of age

Ligatures of foreskins, tassels

Final gasp of a blood-clod

Kneeling, praising clemency

To the nun of cigarettes

And the 13th streetlamp, thistle-clad

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