These brick buildings,
well they won’t help us now.
It’s not what the soul wants.
The soul wants to open up
Coconut shells and rain from clouds
and hang leafy shells on your ears as an engagement ring.
The Hungarian tribes inside it are unfrozen by the wandering Danube.
They are on their way to the black sea to wash their rusty hands clean
Of the poison the stag men cursed them with
For dripping the cave dark without homage.
Their hands’ ache is released by the goddess of the river
Second cousin to Athena due to be married any day now
To the sea’s never ending unbounded completeness.
The hand that skims the shoals learns Russian
Under the water and can speak to the wood carp now
As the whole caravan is guided eastward by the alps breath.
Eli’s sister is swept down the Blue Ridges to the village
That she spent her childhood running from
To spin cotton into gold.
A thread long enough to stretch the Atlantic and be sold.
She’s happy to have work again but has reseigned herself
Of ever marrying.
The soul doesn’t want these things. The hand only wants water
And the nose only the red and orange leaves
Floating on the God of the Appalachian’s breath.
But she will come back. If you pray enough they shall release her.
We’ll sit in coffee shops in Paris all night writing lines
Hoping the girl shall find him and the string reach the Hungarians in time.
What do the poet’s strike out at when they sleep?
Do they think when they dream
Or only dream of sleeping with her
When the journey has been made
And the cave stags can rise up their sacred hole again
Lighting the darkness in the world above?

I don’t care what the foam sea squalls say:
The mountains are made of mint.
Green I spend gliding upon the emotion-
Less ramp besieged by the creepy Count de Bourgie
Of my psyche. The orphaned Queen of my heart will jump
Straight down into her moat and drown
If the adventurer of my soul forgets
To stay on his horse.
A jacketed smoke walk down to the Bourbon wall.
It stretches a few quarters, but the one
Inside, it tunnels inward Universe upon Universe.
A bleek streak.Beaker Street. Jazz blue smokes Bitches Brew
To whites of eyes carved out of stone
Demi-Gods staring back double fisted.
They can take it even pinned to a mountain for centuries.
We (the children still inside me) roll in the dough, little sprinkled whites,
As pigeons of possibility sip cappucino on the departing square.
Someone shuffles down a back alley
Of my heart. A glance, and two dark, soft eyes
Surrender the Yucatan night as the beach waves
Dive in from the hole the Dinosaur asteroid made.
We shriek down to drink the Greek god’s salty blood.
I buy trinkets for her and two dresses embroidered with firebirds,
One for Mum. They will fly us to the shore. The rest, well…we must save some words.
The phone call goes through but I don’t hear her voice.
(Who could in this situation?)
Someone else (the sloucher) whispers a void
That sucks away the beach sunrise sunset dream.
The cats blur in the fiber
Glass behind locked chained links for winter, but the matted Tabby
Of my bewilderment is stuck in the roof of my ego
And moans for food, for a way out.
Oh, how I reach!
Sound gets through, light gets through, all the forces of nature get through
But there is still something else we are waiting for. What is it?
I never forget the freaky blizzard where even the flowing
Fountain turned into block. Don’t tell me life isn’t quantum.
(Even after wave after wave almost drowns me)
Someone, no, not just anyone,
She turns to me laughing gingerly in the cold,
Dark back alley of the warehouse district,
But I let the flashy city’s neon outlines carry me away,
Building upon building seeking the sacred pyramidal top.
Soon enough, though, I’ll be alone in the Pontiac,
Bristling at the bones,
Nestling into the concrete, filling another Weller
With spring water, looking at the gate still not crumble,
Even as the giant hundred year oaks howl at the city’s brick tablets.
My one hand left snakes, and an eye opens the Sun curtain.
One tree and a bounding suspicion race
God knows where but the car’s breath
Roars in the hope that at least it’s somewhere,
Home to someone,
Who might finally have that expression on her face
We’ve been waiting for
Our whole life.