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She had warmth in her bones

And a bee on her lip

so that when she spoke

Only honey could drip

He had tears in his eyes

And a dog in his chest

So he followed her

Like a person possessed

But that's not what she's here for

And his song's not that good

This is only a love note

Etched on the wood

THE JUNGLE

A man went into the jungle

And stepped upon some bones

The dew was dried but still he tried

To rest on weary stones

The forest tried to warn him

Alas he did not heed

And on he went with nothing meant

Except to quell his need

He leered into the stream and bent

Down low upon its bank

Until the watered gurgled

Not pleased with being drank

The sinew fruit lay barren

After he’d had his fill

And someone in the forest hissed

“Fear not- we’ll beat him still!”

He walked on through the giants

Which he called timber gold

Tripping along their roots

And planning for them to be sold

Alas, the panther was hungry

And stalking him as his prey

There's nothing quite like the manflesh

And no catch is as easy as they

The man was not a foolish one

And his machete was long

The panther attack was ferocious

But the man was equally strong

The panther was forced in retreat

Licking his mortal wounds

The man forged on through the jungle

Not heeding the thunder's boom

Fear not, the jungle whispered

The usurper will yet be beat

Take him down with an army of ants

To sting him on his feet

The man cried out in pain at that

And fell to the forest floor

Where the clever thorn was waiting

To valiantly prick some more

But quickly he recovered and

More determined he pushed through

The tangles and the nettles 

That once cut- more thickly grew

The pond was waiting patiently

When he arrived at it's shore

He stripped out of his garments

And bathed and washed his sores

We've got him now frogs whispered

The tree trunks rumbled back

The pond was not moved to reply

Its waters turning black

Still on he pushed and wondered

Where does this jungle end

If he finds there some paradise

He must return this way again

At last no end was there for days

As he slept and marched and slept

The jungle waited patiently

As inwards the usurper crept

At last the man realized his fault

Flesh rotting from his wounded palm

The maggots crawling inside out
The maggots were so calm

He's green at last! The jungle cried

The birds squawked out the news

And all the creatures great and small

Watched the man grow more confused

Delirious he tried retreat

But the vines had planned a trap

Where he'd once cut, they grew too thick

And he could not turn back

Alas he fell and withered

And the worms came out to feast

For never would the jungle

Be bested by such a beast

The jungle slowly engulfed him

Til all there was was bones

And later still, those withered

And moss grew like on stones

The man was soon forgotten

The jungle saw more men each day

They mostly were usurpers

And all of them must pay

WRITING YOU

His eyes are most expressive

His laugh- a throbbing bass

His teeth are very pearly

His soul shines through his face

He teases me to write

Then doesn’t want a rhyme

Distracting me with sex

I say- I don’t have time

What’s wrong with you, he says

Your laptop will be dead

If you keep typing nonsense

That pops into your head

He’s resting now serenely

A nice angelic brow

And I so want to kiss it

But cannot stop right now

NECKLACE

She wore her thousand lovers

On a chain around her neck

So that they might remind her

Of all that she had wrecked

Each day she picked a new one

And molded him to clay

To be a warmer lover

With whom she could then play

But when the day was over

They all returned to be

Just pearls strung on a necklace

For judging eyes to see

NOMAD

She’s lost count of her lovers

And takes it in stride

She’s lost count of her stories

In which she has lied

And to all of the gypsies

To whom she is known

She is the traveler

Lost with no home

She doesn’t count money

But she works in the sun

She has few regrets

But of peace she has none

THE FURNITURE

When I first met you

I noticed your smile

Was the sky after a storm

And looking into your eyes

Was waking up from a deep sleep

And forgetting all

That I had dreamt before

When I first knew you

We were awkward and clumsy

And you were a question

I was trying to think of the right words

To ask

When you became familiar

You were the sofa

A piece of furniture eating at the table

The car driving itself to my parent’s house

Its driver barely a sentient being

I was contented

And now you are the smile

The question

And the furniture

THE HUNT

I am the Savannah

I am stalking my prey

I am the huntress

This is my way

You are so smooth

As you walk through the trees

But one little strike

And you’re brought to your knees

You are the water

You are drinking my well

You are the hunted

Watching me swell

FINAL STOP WARSAW

The sky is pink and blue

Rumbling towards dusk

There’s a train

With final stop Warsaw

The buildings are crumbling

Still shelled from the war

But dolled up in neon graffiti

The treeline turns black

Night blankets the train

The same now as it was then

Fields still growing

There are no marks

Just the black sky

That twines itself around

The granddaughter

Of the ghost riders

On a train with

Final stop Warsaw

TONGUES

An ancient secret language once

Spewed from your spiteful tongue

And mingled with the dripping sheets

That on the line then hung

Sheets blowing softly in the breeze

That swirled the words away

A hiss, a kiss, a mortal wound

That then came out to play

NICE BOY

I

Let this be a barren wasteland

Of dreams and sandy tides

Of driftwood, hopes, and lovers

That have been brushed aside

II

I gave my heart

To a sweet-talking boy

Who used a devilish smile

As his loving ploy

To charm the skirts

Above the heads

Of the many lovers

He never wed

READ MY MIND

I see you first

And you don’t know

Push the button

Up we go

I can smell

Your spring shampoo

And when I smile

So do you

We stop somewhere

And wonder why

Our descent is just

Eight stories high

Oh elevator

Love of mine

When will our silly 

hearts combine?

MEMORY

A funnel cloud

Of memories

Drifts away

Upon the seas

And gathers in

An unfound place

Flowing rivers

Forgotten face

Then rolls inside

A secret chest

Inside the mind

That knows it best

There is no place

These dreams shall be

Than there with you

And you with me

And when the waves

Turn round so fast

They’re made from hearts

That didn’t last

Which crash upon

The sacred shore

And trickle off

The world once more

HUMAN ARTIFACTS

As you walked out
On the streets of Larado
With a Swiss musicbox
And the world in your hands

I thought to myself
What a strange combination
Of artifacts human
On these holy lands

If the world should end
Without fail at Mgido
Then what should be left
Of our mortal strand?

But a Swiss musicbox
Which plays the same tune
As my heart wanting yours
In a poem in the sand

ARTIST QUESTION

You are a DaVinci

So good

Well-known

Inventor of dreams

And homosexuals

Broad strokes on papyrus

And soft-spoken speeches

With a sad little smile

That really isn’t worth

Pondering so much

FALCON

The dew was cold

On that soft summer night

When we went for a ride

In that old neon Falcon

And we parked in the cornfield

Just sat there til dawn

Emptying ourselves to the stars

Then our voices gave out

And we sat in reflection

Quietly watching the dawn

DAS GEBRAUCH

There are none of our traditions here

The ancestors rattle in the mourning stones

Apart from the common Gebrauch

Sung loudly by minions on thrones

The woman cannot understand

What the words might possibly hold

But she walks by the thrones on the hilltop

Paying homage to secrets untold

The Gebrauch is spoken in tongues

But everyone knows they aren’t blessed

They are simply the moanings of ancients

Who mold time and live on in their breasts

RUBY

There are jewels on the kitchen counter

From the time when love

Was professed by a letter

And a secret told

Meant death

They remind the breakfast

Of the fasting imams

Whose secrets were sealed

And waxed

PREPARATIONS

Know

I’ll walk out

With two coins in my pocket

A falcon to my breast

And an apple in my hand

So that

When you might follow

There will be only

Soaring past stars

Forbidden fruits

And charity

For our silly dreams

THE LOVER

With your chiseled mind

And intelligent face

Like a Dutch supermodel

You master your space

You’re taller than most

But you want to be small

Your middle class fears

Just don’t suit you at all

You dream of adventure

And want to do good

But you don’t quite want them

As much as you should

Your very wet humor

Leaks out through your eyes

But your mouth stays so sullen

And never tells lies

After short observation

And a swish of my hips

I decide that I want you

And you lick your lips

We talk in the summer

And kiss in the fall

By winter we know

It meant nothing at all

THE WANDERER

I fell in love

With a wandering man

And lord did I love

His wandering hands

And when it was time

He packed up his song

And took to the road

He’d been on so long

I kept right here

As I’d always done

With vinegar tears

For the wandering one

He’d always remember

He said as he went

That one special girl

And the time that we’d spent

And so I packed up

My love in a sack

Shouldered my burden

And never looked back

My heart grew a tower

As I traveled the world

And saw things and did things

And still was a girl

FLIRT

It is lulling me into a corner

It is sending me into a trance

My body and mind are still grounded

But my soul is starting to dance

These whispers are starting to murmur

The glances are melting the freeze

The touches are hoping to linger

And the eyes are wanting to please

These rumors are filling my stomach

And laughably weak I become

Waiting for some kind of signal

So that I may to you just succumb

There is only one thing that I want now

There is only one name on my breath

But you are not ready to tell me

And I am not ready for death

MOMENT WITHOUT YOU

My favorite moment without you

Is when I’m in the shower

And our hair tangles in the drain

Mine- so long and brown

Plain, I need to cut it soon

Yours- black and curly

Springs that seem to jump, not shed

Alone they would swirl away and cause

A blockage

But together, like us, they entwine

And stay above the water

And at the end of my shower

I pick up the wayward follicles of our scalps

From where they rest above the drain

I smile at our compatibility

And dump our hair in the trash

WHEN SHOULD YOUTH DIE?

The neighbors are playing loud music

It’s only 11 on a Friday

And I’m contemplating the peaceful sleep

A noise complaint would bring

But the headache of neighborliness

Drives those thoughts away

Where is my youthful exuberance?

At 25, I would have been a bit surprised at this change

I had only just gotten my first real job

And was balking at the Klatschtanten at work

Who seemed to live in a parallel universe called Stepford

At 23 I was still too busy saving the world

Living in a grass hut in a remote land, lonely and desperate for love

Realizing that the dichotomy of marriage and kids versus the solitude

Of "saving the world", could really go either way for me

At 21 I was too busy playing loud music

To notice what the neighbors might say

Sustained by lust and three month boyfriends

In the dancehalls of Berlin

And just starting to realize I was mortal

At 19 I was still completely sustained by my youth

Parties and midnight conversations and

Traveling the world still thrilled and surprised me

But here I am at 27

Trying to sleep on a Friday night

Husband, dog, house

The dream of almost every Midwesterner that I never shared

The thought of going out repulses me, though

A new country seems like just more work at starting over

And the bills I’ve been ignoring seem to be my last stand

And lingering rebellion against this inevitable transformation into ‘adult’

I mourn the loss of my youth

I do not want it or need it anymore, but I still mourn it

It is difficult to find meaning in the day to day

When your days are so ordinary

And the world around you is known

And the people are not your type and you’re

Old enough now to know that you don’t need

To waste your time pretending to be into all of that

But a good man lies beside me

And a good dog lays at my feet

And shall I not be contented?

I was never contented in my youth, anyways

There was always a longing, something missing

That most people fill with religion

I filled the void with new stamps in my passport

And now I suppose you fill the void again

Maybe I should go dancing with friends again

A last hurrah to the good old days

Maybe my back will be sore, and the music too loud,

And I’ll have to carry a drunk friend home

And I’ll remember why I chose this job, this house, this life

The music stops blaring

It is not so late after all and I can stop worrying

About if my youth died too soon

You roll to face away from me and sigh as you do so

The dog is snoring softly at my feet

And soon I will join her

WAMBERICAN

My favorite language is Wamberican

And we, it’s only two speakers

It’s pronounced when you bring me broetchen and cider

And you will have none, preferring mopane and spinach

Wamberican is the large Oshikandela, even if we disagree on flavor

An interrogative sentence is a question when followed by ‘what?’

And it’s first speaker mutters “cultural differences”

When you catch me sneaking the dog on the bed again

It is a language filled with joyful laughs

And tender whispers

And slow speech requiring hours to dissect

What was really meant and what was heard

I am trying to say what?

Ondikuhole (I love you)

Obvious

THE END OF AN ERA

You are an empire man

In the age of multiculturalism

Born to fight for king and country

But neither of those exists anymore

And your important life

Somehow no longer that

You fumble and disregard definitions of modern manhood

Yours is a rugby field and a longing for the days

When being a man meant

Self-evident satisfaction

Joyriding through the bush

And sleeping with the coloured daughters of

the black women who raised you.

TIMELINE TWO

I had my ticket

And was ready to go

The next morning of

A thousand years ago

If you had kissed me then

Would the words

Between my lips

Be a bible full of stories

For believers

To find us in? 

THE BORDER

All of that fate cannot have meant nothing

Riding down the mountains and into the plains

Driving hours beneath the escarpment

The sugarcane nodding complacently

The sun unforgiving in its angry warmth

As it convalesces with the road

And turns dust into water

The road

The sun

The escarpment

The sugar

And just you driving by

With me at your side

We stop at the border to stretch our legs

It is night now and the gates are quiet

Just some soldiers with guns

And a few trucks passing

Even the filling station is dark

We peer past the barbed wire

But we don’t cross

Just stand there with our passports out

Before we turn around and drive back through the night

Leaving our sticky souls

Side by side at the border

THE DEVOURING

So if the perfume’s pungent

Then that is why I’m here

To smell your legs

And eat your eyes

And bring the crowd to tears

A doorway stands

Between us though

And sideways I shall crawl

To clutch your feet

Beneath the stones

Before I make you fall

And I’ll slide up your body

Til my eyes can eat yours

Then we’ll sit relaxing

Upon the sated floor

IN THE VILLAGE OF PAKA

In the village of Paka

Sits a most ancient tree

And beneath it are buried

The chiefs regally

But no children must play there

And no lovers embrace

And the tree must keep growing

Expanding its place

And if you dare enter

The leaves spread so wide

It will swallow you whole

And spit out your hide

THE SNAKE KING OF THE NGWEMPISI RIVER

The Snake King lives on the steep hinterland

Under the boulders and over the sand

He coils himself around the red stones

Squeezing the marrow from inside their bones

Their marrow runs fast, seeking the sea

Thus makes a river, and thus makes a tree

The Snake King sleeps in his watery lair

Biding his time before rising for air

 And when he does cross to the other side

He searches for fear to counter his pride

So he takes on a form of mortal temptation

A charming young man to the lucky young maiden

Lest she see his true tongue, he whispers devotions

Until in a trance, her feet move in motions

To the river she follows and sinks down below

Stuck in his lair where no mortal may go

And if she escapes, as the kidnapped can do

He raises his tail and the thunder rolls through

He must be appeased, the villagers say

And pray to a god much newer than they

The Snake King just laughs at their innocent crime

As he slides back below, merely biding his time

CYNTHIA ANN PARKER

You once sat down and

I painted your face

A confusing portrait

Of a warrior in lace

And your thousand years’ stare

To some faraway place

How old were you then

When they marched on your town

Were you just a child                                     

When they burnt it all down

Did you grow up so quickly

With no gun at your side

Just a sad little girl

With nowhere to hide

CLODIA

Clodia was a flower

A muse to all men

And even Cicero loved her

The prick

And she loved only to love

What sedition

To love no man

And to own

Not the pain of Venus

A WOMAN’S PLACE IN VALHALLA

Viking!

Disregard me

I will not serve you in Valhalla

From a childhood of scraping and

Battering on our knees

I fought at your side

We are warriors

Fighting the abyss

I fight for you

Warrior brother

Lover

Do battle with ants

And I with men

That I might die

With you at my right

And you may serve

Me sweet wine in

Valhalla