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-- word biscuit --
-- sappy spring edition --
04-21-97 -- ray heinrich
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hey, what can i say...
-ray
< a poem about love poems >
love poems are my favorites
the good ones
the bad ones
when i write one
i try to tell you something
i don't know myself
- - -
< love poem >
it's spring
(a good time for love poems)
and you
(a love poem needs a you)
are close to me
(it needs this too)
late night
and all the teeth are brushed
and all the clothes
are layed aside
and we
(a love poem needs this most)
stretch close
- - -
< tides of the moon >
a gentle fluid
laps
within us all
red
and not a welcome sight
the remains
of ancient seas
carried
within us refugees
from old struggles
we
the newest fish
with skin
to keep our sea within
my gentle fluid
laps with yours
our waves beat
with your rhythm
then with mine
and soon
with tides
tides of the moon
our separate seas
combine
- - -
< oh allen, you could've had me >
i was 15 and hot
a high-school swimming star
a three year letter-man to be
(in the small pond of baytown texas)
it was those swimming meets in houston
and my audience
of all those guys
with their tight jeans
and cowboy boots
all watching
my skin-tight speedo
and feeling my young cock
with their eyes
the question of consent
is an important one
and someone who holds power
over someone else
cannot obtain it
and i had my pick
of them
the one
with the best car
the one
who shot the light out
at my dare
i'd be the first
to reach
and rub his jeans
and feel the hardness start
oh allen
with just a pair of cowboy boots
and a real nice car
you could've had me
- - -
< my god lives >
my god lives
between the branches of the trees
the slender branches
ready to bend
or break
with each new wind
the fragile
branches
clothed
in the season's leaves
my god lives
between the branches
and the air
in the light
before sunset
the swallow-winged
branches
the smallest
branches
the fragile
branches
clothed
in the season's leaves
- - -
< after the war >
when i mention you
the doctors
are kind at first
but then they tell me
that i've made you up
and they try and try
to do away with you
but i tell them
that your hands were new leaves
seen through new glasses
crisp against a clear sky
that your face was a voice reminding me
of promises made long before the war
of letters written and words said
that refused to be the past
there was a picture of us in the truck
coming over
the crest of that last hill before home
passing the few trees in northpark colorado
us looking like the life we left
the barbed-wire fences and the grass we made into hay
to feed all those cows that your mom loved so much
and that i
never understood
suddenly the word korea would appear
with the correct pronunciation of some river or hill
but i quickly changed it
to the barn
or the tractors
or the school board elections
a picture hangs in my head of you
the space grown larger than my east coast soul
and i am always waiting for the motion to return
needing only new batteries or gasoline or parts
it is the time of year
that the leaves
take on the color of your hands
and the trees are crisp in the clear sky
and every image and smell and the scent of your breath
cannot be told from the other
the doctors
are kind at first
but then they tell me
that i've made you up
and they try and try
to do away with you
but i always knew your name
and i always draw your face out of the leaves
crisp in the fall that no dream could match
their details thrown over you
have made a poor shroud full of holes
through which your sun
shines brilliant in the night
- - - -
< the next day >
you slipped and i found you the next day
but don't think if you are reading this
that i found you dead it's just that there
are different you's and if you and you get
mixed up what am i to do but go on because
it's always necessary to go on in a movie
and those of us who must make our lives
into movies will recognize this right away
and become the first you and the others
both luckier and smarter will take their
places as the second you as the we which
includes both you's and the not (as eternal
as we had first assumed) must continue with
finding the first you the next day on the
beach with your clothes removed by the surf
and your skin reddened by the sand rubbing
where i'd always wanted to but now you were
composed like an angel and could not be
touched as i crept away always the hermit
crab always in someone else's shell and
you slipped and i found you the next day
- - -
< new virgins >
my dog pulls me to the ditch
the smell of the bodies
is more appealing
than the squirrel
and i look at them
burned
and missing their
breasts
and
testicles
and
cast
into this ditch
for dead
but these new virgins
only pretend
to rest
- - -
< poison >
the point of poison
is to speed up life
with a really good poison
you can go through
a whole life
in seconds
my sister and i
knew how to make poison
we made it each time
our mother and father
fought
but our poison
wasn't that good
it took years and years
- - -
(after a poem by Margaret Atwood)
< list of names >
one paper falls
on top of another
and soon
rock is formed
from names on top of names
whispered to fine sand
pressed
by immense forces
who disavow all knowledge
you
lift the top folder
and open it
and read down the list
of names
they could be
third-grade classmates
guards at a prison camp
winners of a florida vacation
you
just hear your voice
reading name after name
wishing
there was more light
and your voice
sounds different
sounds like the voices
on the list
continuing to read
name after name
pronouncing yours correctly
like they'd read it
again and again
ever since the third grade
each morning in the camp
on the phone in the evening
telling you you'd won
- - -
< 10 second poem >
i have 10 seconds
to write this
you have 10 seconds
to read this
now what do you plan to do
with your spare time?
- - -
< in the kitchen >
in the kitchen
the knife drawer
hums a stray tune
hums to itself
i look at the lettuce
the onions
the tomatoes
i decide
to have cereal instead
- - -
< warning label >
Warning, Adult Material.
If you are under 18 you should
realize that some of the
following material reveals
explicit details of what
adults would really like to be
doing instead of masturbating
in the shower. Also realize,
that no matter what you may
hear, some of the best (and
safest) sex in your life will
consist of masturbating in the
shower.
- - -
< winter love >
It's winter and we are cold
and it should be spring for
love poems, really it should
be spring, but it gets cold at
night and you're so warm that
i need to get right next to
you and your warm breath and
the scent of your skin and all
those things sticking out of
you here and there that rub
against all those things
sticking out of me here and
especially there so it gets to
be hard to sleep and there is
the tension of the day that
needs relief or some excuse we
have forgotten cause now we
are just warm, cuddly little
bunnies with ten foot genitals
and mouths and tongues and
acres of soft flesh going
every which way and the sheets
and pillows are in jeopardy
and it's winter but we are
cold no longer.
- - -
< old cotton >
your finger
points
first my way
then another
to another
you
are the innocent
i'd hoped for
the one
who'd never guess
what it was
i wanted
i left you sleeping
on my bed
feels greasy
needs washing
needs you
but has me
rolled
curled
in its old cotton self
i'm batting
ticking
bed-bugging
lugging
still listening
to you
with your skin
still on
i watch
till dawn
- - -
< dust to dust >
the slow sway
of a gentle day
our words remain
though given away
the sweep
of our arms
the touch
of our hands
dust to dust
our love
withstands
- - -
< instantly >
instantly
we touch
first
on the fine horizon
and then
on our hollow bodies
a fine resonance
i play on yours
not suspecting it's mine
we
play together
you on me
me on you
waves
one after the other
first you
then me
instantly
- - -
< like leaves >
- for Pat
your eyes through the garden
the green parts of the plants
the sun glows through them
and i'm lying watching
and i can't move
as i listen
to the trucks on the highway
their tires singing
and i make it into a song
and i find you
are singing it too
singing with me
lying on the grass in the afternoon
in the heat
where nothing moves but our hearts
as we watch the leaves droop
and the shadows as they come
and we pretend
it can't be us
but we all know
so even now
before it ends
it makes us sad
as we look
at the photographs of us
taken from here
taken
from right where we are
the worn images
held
in the hands of strangers
wondering
just who we were
as we lie
on the bank of this lake
as our love
gathers us up
and weaves us together
and lets us forget the time
when we'll have no summers
no winters waiting for us
and all our wishes
will lie like leaves
turned lazily from breeze to breeze
- - -
(after a poem 'Clear View in Summer' by Valentin Iremonger)
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whole damn thing including this stuff at the end.
and all this is copyright 1996 & 1997 by ray heinrich
and the free state of dogs. comments are very welcome,
send to: ray@scribbledyne.com and i'm not wearing any pants.
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