The sliver of silver
and the brass couplet
round her slender neck
would not
could not
compare
to the fantasies
entwined
and shining
round and about
her tender soule
like a golden rope
through millions of milleniums
and the mightiest of Kings.

They flew in circles
the cat and the dog
They were legendary
containing within themselves
a deeper truth
the meaning they would debate
and it was history--
each one must learn it alone.
The lyric was certain
and fell like iron curtains
forbidden for centuries
to pronounce the name
of the mystery
Or was it a myth, a delusion--
what was that word?
The power was extraordinary
it was supernatural
exploding with danger
Both ran to it undercover
whilst circling the vowels
rolling over the consonants
chasing a tail chasing the tail
of that vain superstition
that disappearing act
the whimsy of man, la femme fancy
If only such rudimentary creatures
would scrape the earth
and bow to de amor, to the flamme,
to the rapporte romanique,
     to love.

I am the storm rising
waking you at midnight
wet and tired with sweat
watered-down for me
you are my salty-sea.
 
I am the lightning bolt
striking you from behind
sending climactic moments
electric spoken words
in color for you alone to see.
 
Mine are the eyes peeping
in shadows long and weeping
where you hide your
needs beyond repair
on your knees in disarray
waiting to hear you say
you want me anyway.
 
Mine are the ears hearing
thoughts interferring
with your life
the way it should be
and I can't disregard it
that I own a place
and mine is the face
     in your reality.

Dice still between your fingers,
     you lead.
It's early to be stirring senses.
          You stir.
We speak in metaphors,
seduced by words
left to interpretation.
     Your magic lingers.

Invited in, your hands play
as you arrange and open.
          You are glad to be here
knowing the face of passion;
tracing the lines of longing--
experienced fingers coax.

Discontent in transitory moments,
          we pretend.
Permanence is in the curve of letters,
     and a kiss.
Beyond well tended beds,
winding paths lead to questions. 
          You turn away. 
                    Or lose your way.

Take a chance. 
Make a choice.
     Make one.

The dice fall two by two. 
                    Flesh becomes.

Smack-dirty Ho
 
 
Ay ho, how bout you now?
Layin lo witcha romeo?
Maybe he's playin hi-di-ho.
I be laughin so low
at nuthin but a yo-yo-ho.
Don't cha know? I got it so-slo.
 
If I be schemin witcha dolla,
I don't worry -- I just holla.
But you don't know bout dat.
You don't know where I'm at.
Ho too busy smackin spit-spat.
See ho, I keep my mouth clean.
 
I know you don't know bout dat.
Cuz ya ain't got my g-sheen.
Hmm ho?  I do know bout dat.
Know more than you can dream.
Cuz I be fightin for my clean.
Nah, you don't know me, ho.
 
Cuz if you knew me, ho
you wouldn't be a-bout me, ho.
You wouldn't talk a-bout me, ho.
Don't know dis gurl's slightly thrown.
So don't be talkin shit a-bout me,
cuz I be fast as light-ning
 
when it comes to a yo-ho's ding--
knowin you don't like me
cuz your man sho-nuff does.
He be watchin all da time.
You been watchin your blind-side.
Aight ho? Ya got only yerself in mind.
 
So ho, you don't know bout dat, tho.
You say ya fru-fru scary-poo?
I say ya better keep very kewl.
I'd sure hate to bury you.
A word-slap or two--
you be losin that at-ti-tude.
 
See, I know bout that, ho.
Dis gurl ain't foolin no one,
not like you think you do,
cuz I don't try to.
I keep my mouth clean--
got nuthin to re-deem.
 
But you don't know a-bout dat.
Nah, you don't know a-bout dat,
cuz you be tossin da to-ta-fro.
 
Ay yo, you ain't nuthin--
you ain't nuthin but a smack-dirty ho.

Leaves wait, tightly wound, the buds ready
for the bursting and unfolding that soon comes.
Ahhh, the sweet sap flows as wetness grows.
Spring, the time when life renews again.
 
Moonlight sings softly, with never a hint of sadness
but it holds me, transformed into a being of the night.
The love reaches deep inside, my life holds treasures dear.
Please, help me understand the meaning. again and again
 
Must I be a product of my basic needs?
Must I respond to images and titilation?
Must I belong to a fraternity of loose malcontents?
Must I hang and wait beyond the moment of sanity?
 
There are no easy answers as she wonders
Her life is different, she needs the completion.
But I cannot fill her, she has not chosen me, I wait.
but my patience slathers and slides and disappears.
 
As though the sparkles fade forever, the trumpets
go silent, the bells sweet and shiny in the moonlight.
Only the rarest few can understand. These meanings
need a priest, the ones that give their lives to knowing.
 
The buds go about their ancient business of unfurling.
And birds sing songs of territory and mating.
This is the rebirth of the world, the newness of our living.
I wonder deeply when I again will be reborn. 

Deep grow the roots of
pain and pleasure,
and dusty are the courts which
the royal fear and desire. 
 
Velvet and carnal bodies struggle
and are convenient vehicles of passion--
of rejection--  masks of Sir King
and the Queen, expressionless still,
but never the stillness of ease.
 
His figurative shadowy movements
maim and encourage her
like a church badly shaken--
the fiery point of a King's arrow
gouges the heart of her entrails
like a whirlwind flying
with the kindness of traitors
at a Queen's barren door.
 
He feels the silent storm of revolt
rise in her as she denies the words she heard--
his promises; his gifts, and her own consent--
with trembling legs;
with dark and distant circles
round her eyes, and beads of sweat--
he whirls behind her--
a bend in the spine of a Queen--
her arms and forehead hit-solid
the bloody floor.
 
Yet,  the story is not through:
      Though the dust will not settle--
      soiling defiance and imagination
      and plunging humiliation--
      the King will never be
      the innocent toy of a Queen.
 
 
 
ca.leverette
04/2008

the force of his will, the power of his body
made him feel good, deep deep down.
He did these things because he could do them
and he felt an imperative; sweeping from somewhere.
 
Always pressing, bursting, flying from inside.
His devine wishes, his holy desires
all sneezing from him as spittle flew
the mouth of the King speaks, all shudder.
 
Some felt horror as if earthquake trembles gathered.
others imagined the rolling and bouncing of a severed head.
The Queen only felt imposed upon, his trouncing ways
not magnificent, not superior, not a holy writ.
 
She knew the man, the human, the beast even.
He had awful breath and stained teeth.  His loins
reeked of too many days out of the bath.
arms were strong and hairy and harsh.
 
The King rose, magnificent for a magic moment.
She saw his manhood, erect, beautiful, amazing even.
Oh no wonder she thought, men are almost devine.
Only she was left with folds and an opening; like a scar.
 
She would gobble him up, take all of him, swallow him
and her precious place would milk him, shine him up
and then out he would go, defeated, lost, softened.
his magificence blunted by her; and she had his essence.

Her life was full
of goat skins on dirt floors,
long-handled gourds
and grassy luminous platforms.
She walked among stony bridges
across snake-filled foot-paths,
with white owls hooting
and fingers drumming
in the tropical darkness--
or even in the endless bursts
of blue across warm skies.
 
Now, the Queen entered a room
filled with oriental rugs
and velvet chairs on pine,
crystal wine glasses
like veils of twinkling light,
and sparkling chandeliers
bowing to the night.
 
She was not timid in her grandeur
as she crossed the entrance hall--
every pulse beating rapidly,
waiting for her to speak
in a voice like the sunset
melting over mountain peaks.
 
Her silky form glazed iridescent
as she gazed outward--
thoughts rippled upon her chosen prey--
her eyes leaping and undulating
in their strange dance,
weaving a net around
the helpless one:
 
     "When you first hurled yourself at me,
     no great boundless waves
     crashed the earth,
     as you choose to believe.
     Yet time did open secret caves
     leading me to pain and mercy.
 
     "Life was silken euphoric shadows,
     and patches of fading stars,
     as I bent to a light
     I could not understand,
     Neither could I withstand such light--
     distant, haunting murmurs
     played and pushed
     against desire and confusion,
     the weeping and the living.
 
     "But no man
     shall be a stone about my neck--
     I will not contain
     soothing powers or blessings,
     like the calm space all men dream of--
          for destiny drives me
          like a roll of the sea."
 
Silence loomed as her eyes,
like whipcords of strength
tightened, drawing her victim
into a whirling sea,
as the King fell at last,
     into the valiant freedom
     of a Queen, with eyes
     of turqoise green.