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Excerpts:
[translated from the Russian]
—22 April 2006
“…love lives,
breathes—suffocates…
flies—drowns…
rejoices—despairs…
screams—bleeds—
scabs over—tears open…
stays out all night—
(stays in all night!)…
is a beacon through the darkness—
and a shadow all the day…
“…and we fed each other grapes,
safe in the ambient of each’s other,
as we talked and laughed and loved
all through the night…
—after all that has passed…
the dashed hopes of dreams undone,
the ravages of wars unwon by either—
at last, a reconciliation…
though clearly there is yet
more fire than mere friendship
can contain…
“A kiss in the darkness
reawakens a soulful unity
from across the endless abyss
of years gone by…
caressing hands hungry
to relearn every inch,
as flesh is enmeshing—
bodies conjoined—
writhing—wrangling—
grinding—pounding—
she gasps, screams her ecstasy,
baring her claws—
shredding flesh to claim me
in the eucharist of my blood—
as if our bodies might,
an are our souls,
be one…
“…but things are different now—
I don’t know why…
I’m still me—ever after,
as always before—
and wondering what that means…
we might have been happy…
if I weren’t so closed—
if she wasn’t so free…
I want to be dazzled by her light,
warmed by her fire…
I need to feel her flesh to my flesh
just to feel complete—
even as I feel her soul
burning all through me…
yet, in this life—after all
that has been, is, or might be—
I still don’t know who she is.”
Ensconced in Imaginings
Ensconced in imaginings…
to escape from dreams daunted…
by goddesses of sun and moon haunted—
they ease in and breeze out,
bathing in golden radiance
or sheltering in silvered shadow…
my idealistic unrealities,
palpitations of life that won’t linger…
delusions of love that don’t last…
in their ever-present absence,
I am cast adrift
upon the barren seas
of my soul….
Love Bites
She tasted
of blood and
sunshine—
in the warm,
bright, sticky,
crimson drying
of late spring…
and when
I would nibble
on her extremities,
she would chirp
and twitter and tweet,
trying to scramble away—
or seeming to, though only
in a mock sort of trying really—
and then she might
say something such as
“Oh, oh, no, stop,
please, please, stop, oh!”
and flail about a bit,
before falling into my embrace,
fits of laughter and
joyous mirth,
singing, dancing,
merriment all round—
and then I would go on eating her
until halfway
through the summer,
and (sometimes)
she would eat me, too.
Bloody Springtime
In the springtime
—bloody springtime,
too freakin’ cold…
but then—oh! oh!—
O goddess of golden beauty!
Of passion’s warmth
and desire’s dreaming!
Mine yearning e’er
to bask in the radiance of
your unparalleled countenance,
to thrum in the resonance of
the dulcet song of your words,
to burn in the pleasures of
your flesh to mine—
alive in the intensity of
our supernally blissful conjoining!!…
—but then—you’re just gone…
just walking away with
your concupiscent corporeity,
and all that—
leaving me shriveled of spirit
(at least…)—
no seeping, so surging—
I won’t drink of you,
and you just won’t eat me—
and—uh!—well, then,
just bloody hell rot anyway……
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