en   nl


 


Wax...
Between your iron bars & mine,
your tongue entwined with mine, unappeasable.
It’s not life, but we sip from it anyway –
in Babylon, at the Euphrates, in the Indus Valley,
in the Mahabharata, the Pillow Books & the Tale of Genji.
To reach into your deepest
I go into my depths.
Among molecules, proteins & amino acids,
we searched for a path in the Cosmos
of Being.
When our tongues slipped
they thrashed against the iron bars.
Between your detention & mine,
when we have done our time
you will dusk back into yourself
while I’d go back to the deepest layers of my own darkness.
I have been to places where
I didn’t even recognize myself.
Hospitals, cemeteries, or the warmth
of your throat.
I have sniffed at myself like a dog,
curious before, during &
after a kiss.
I try to recapture that sniff.
A kiss is liberated in the act of kissing.
Catch it again! I am caught
unsatiated in the act.
Inwardness & outwardness
articulating in harmony
only aware of wet consonants
kissed by dribbling vowels.
To be unconscious of the meaning of a kiss
in my consciousness.
The bloodless ghoul in a horror flick
licks blood, for
he is a ghoul.
They would say they, too, have felt thus;
they would say, they would surely say.
They would say they, too, have written thus;
they would say, they would surely say,
they would be better off smooching.  
Whenever I pluck myself from you, &
you peel yourself off of me,
we tilt towards a state of crookedness.
No tadpole turns into a fish, but
it’s in the nature of wax to melt.
Into the dent your tongue lashed
against the iron bar
I poke my tongue to recover what’s left.
Why did we collapse on our own volition 
into that kiss? 
Why kissed black & blue?
What was it
we hoped to kiss in that kiss of happenstance?
 
 
 
 
Poetry International Rotterdam logo