this, my poet-friends and fellow-readers, is a piece I need some help with. I think the content is very strong, but I'm very unsure of the order and progression of stanzas. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd welcome them:
Filthy with eyes as dull as the ashes of snuffed cigars
Filthy still naked leapt out of bed
one day, scratching herself, found the hole and died from shame
at the monolithic monstrosities in the distance
in that room
and in those dives we visited our hearts
crushed by anguish, we
exceeded our limits
(hearts could be heard, beating in bodies.)
in her apparent decency an acknowledgment
immodest
she could have put her finger to her lips
with a look that went with the gesture's suggestion
but she lowered her head instead
as if blindly repeating a badly learned lesson
wanting to feel the rapids crashing beneath me
that very instant enduring
the immensity of time
and space, the shabbiness of the story
(Filthy in the void
burst into laughter)
as if the task of talking bored her
shiny tips of her shoes lifting the rip
in the carpet i raised my eyes
her nudity had a certain bestiality
an acknowledged yet hidden infirmity
a rage she seemed incapable of
the disgraceful openness of her slit
the nervous tide
mistress of her own violence
what I know she'd seen was giving her to me
more completely
than if she had tempted
provoked
solicited me
through immodesty
the sinister vestment marking her failure
divinity, totally dressed.
(my mouth swelled with saliva and desire
for her visibly penetrated her)
with her own violence
(my body felt like an outrage)
that had thirsted for such purity
the limits of death receded in her breadth.
tell her that I'll be waiting,
tell her that I'll be dressed and waiting
her body like worm segments twisting
from an endless, motionless shudder
of moist eyes
little scoundrel eyes,
squinty little laughing eyes,
eyes that strip me naked.
"I want you to see the whites of my eyes
and up my skirt at the same time"
sinking sadly in the light as soon
as it was formed
erasing it just as much as her vision
divinity's shadow sliding on the wall,
a simple terror they could never lose
themselves in
the unlikely possibility of my voice
in that prison solitude,
the laughter of complicity,
essential brevity of bubbles
an image of myself as powerless
as the triumph (triumph?) of death
the long nudity, animaled forest-
lost path
of her deep mouth
the dense water-
lost path
of your deep mouth:
a filthy animal in my hands
a laugh freeing your long nudity
radiating your long, bright form.
*
And, if you're looking for something to read, why not look here!
Filthy with eyes as dull as the ashes of snuffed cigars
Filthy still naked leapt out of bed
one day, scratching herself, found the hole and died from shame
at the monolithic monstrosities in the distance
in that room
and in those dives we visited our hearts
crushed by anguish, we
exceeded our limits
(hearts could be heard, beating in bodies.)
in her apparent decency an acknowledgment
immodest
she could have put her finger to her lips
with a look that went with the gesture's suggestion
but she lowered her head instead
as if blindly repeating a badly learned lesson
wanting to feel the rapids crashing beneath me
that very instant enduring
the immensity of time
and space, the shabbiness of the story
(Filthy in the void
burst into laughter)
as if the task of talking bored her
shiny tips of her shoes lifting the rip
in the carpet i raised my eyes
her nudity had a certain bestiality
an acknowledged yet hidden infirmity
a rage she seemed incapable of
the disgraceful openness of her slit
the nervous tide
mistress of her own violence
what I know she'd seen was giving her to me
more completely
than if she had tempted
provoked
solicited me
through immodesty
the sinister vestment marking her failure
divinity, totally dressed.
(my mouth swelled with saliva and desire
for her visibly penetrated her)
with her own violence
(my body felt like an outrage)
that had thirsted for such purity
the limits of death receded in her breadth.
tell her that I'll be waiting,
tell her that I'll be dressed and waiting
her body like worm segments twisting
from an endless, motionless shudder
of moist eyes
little scoundrel eyes,
squinty little laughing eyes,
eyes that strip me naked.
"I want you to see the whites of my eyes
and up my skirt at the same time"
sinking sadly in the light as soon
as it was formed
erasing it just as much as her vision
divinity's shadow sliding on the wall,
a simple terror they could never lose
themselves in
the unlikely possibility of my voice
in that prison solitude,
the laughter of complicity,
essential brevity of bubbles
an image of myself as powerless
as the triumph (triumph?) of death
the long nudity, animaled forest-
lost path
of her deep mouth
the dense water-
lost path
of your deep mouth:
a filthy animal in my hands
a laugh freeing your long nudity
radiating your long, bright form.
*
And, if you're looking for something to read, why not look here!
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
in my mind, "cull" is forever associated with "the culling of the masses", for some stupid reason. it is a fine word, tho, and i should be less neurotic.
what's the problem with the above piece, for you? my "complaint" would be that i balk at the sight of such a long piece, but that's just my laziness, and some guys (O'Hara, for example) do epics very well. have you thought about chopping it up? reportioning it, so to speak? or you could balance out the stanzas, arrange them into four or five bigger blocks, like a series of heavy punches. then again, it is very good as it is.