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Gilberte O'Sullivan |
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Lizard Envy |
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Lizard Envy |
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Wood slave sniper craved rapture with me. He moved house, swerved the stern end of God, deserted rocks, trees, bower, for the broad back of my reticulated abstract's warm parchment. His mistress inconsolable comes to search him taking with herself small-scale memories of when he chirruped her awake for their daylight ritual. Now she sees right through spine-shattered ice-capped skin: sheer horny lizard. She should have known. He should be clapped for his superiority catching females, aegypti and all (the real reason I put up with his crap). 250 aeons before, apothecaries took the bane of snake to trade for legs, so snake could never reach the sun. Lizard more cunning stalks the light in search of fresh wings. In this selfsame semi-century Jim Morrison crowns himself Lacertilian king, His Squamata neurons squirming, his mind high as wings, his belt of iguana hung well and low. All covet rule with blood just as cool. Who else craves lizard life, who envies triassic rules of detachability? First, you must forsake the tail. Never turn back. |
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| Sea Blast |
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| i. Day clean in this feted land That yearns to cure its pounding hangover, bathing its wounds in sea water. Enter the pirate, in search of a new land see the island from a distance Dream in the language of confluence. He rises earlier than the rest, Sets the example. Not like those before who threw Up their hands to a civilised God and sailed far from the serpent's spew, of serpent's mouth of islands that give no thanks. Sea wife is expecting you, she knows you are troubled by their talk She stews blanched white ocean, trails her spoon, settles the long bursting creamy waves from the bed of her pressure pot Do not listen to the hissing. Do you hear? Before dinner she will dive, make you drunk with her. You want to fill her with your effluence Waves pass through your ears, Salt blinds you with harsh visions You hear voices through kisses, Of what beauty was like when still forlorn. Drift carries you across breakwater Like a new groom testing the latent Intentions of sea under heavy manners, Not letting you slip free. You should regard that a warning there is only so much need of remedy. Little fish scholars, twinkle at your calves, awaiting oracles. How easy to forget this is not your home; Every tide wants to lap you up, Drift wants to lull your body, Hear your glug for mercy. Sea-wife, drunk with you, wore down your reason. You curse this blasted island woman, Wild in her motion, not looking on horizons. Put her to bed to sleep it off; start the absolution. You make the sign of the mast, You will marry her into submission, Soak-in the blue-green scene Unbraid the helix, Chlorinate her to zenith. Bowlegged, still finding your gait, You come to dinner with scrolls of perishable ideas No one cares to unfurl. Your rhetoric is tiresome You are spoiling the buffet. They will put you out the party Because you cannot reform the sea. ii. You drift to bed, lonesome wood, one time used for beating Knowing your bride will leave, who was once the outside woman. Nausea comes awakening which means she cannot stand for all you have done to her island. Sleep engulfs you But does you no favors You heave at dreamers and their dreaming. For dreaming means no motion, too much motion has her sickening. Then comes that awful feeling, knowing all substance will come to sand. No court of mercy dares appeal. Sea wife gets everything, respects nothing, Not buildings, not wooden frets, not cast iron rails, not books For she cannot control the hunger, Licks with lime-water Washing away the fresh, Browning edges in burnt sugar, frothing at her mouth. iii So what? Wrought iron flowers and spears dissolve, And the joints and bolts and bones and screws. And the termites have learned to chew concrete, at the hotel of sumptuous pleasures where sea-wife first consumed you. Can you not see these islands are omnivorous, They devour skin, sawdust and iron powder ground together wasting. Stained fingers and clothes brush past your linen skin. Now worms corrode your stomach and feast on your brain, your own body is already turning to rust. |
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