She Does Not Rhyme

July 28, 2007 § Leave a comment

With Thanks to Georgia O’Keefe and the Empress Card of the Tarot (3)

The Nerve!
She JUST CHOSE the most beautiful color she could.

How Dare She!!

As if Life would permit us to retain this much sweetness

from Its privileged height

As if God would not be offended we had taken

this degree of LIBERTY.

As if a moment can give birth to itself

over and over and over.

As if innocence was the child of wisdom.

As if age begets light.



His perfect sonnet leans

against my dreams

with rhymes as delicate

as summer morning breezes

pressing petals against leaves.

If I am his lover

then you are my mother

kneeling over and over and over

to catch my falling head as I am born between your legs.


You have painted the sun into the backside

of an indigo pansy.


You have poured milk

over velvet (you slut).


You have washed my mouth

out with eternity.


And I owe you

And I can never repay you.




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