(no subject)

[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

Heat
Deborah Stein

hot boys, she says are sweet in the summertime
muscles burning taut and rippled
steam rising off their shoulders and hanging
in the air, heavy swirling auras of light
and cologne, making a greenhouse in her room
backing away coolly, i say I'm not so sure
with my sour apple gum and dry air conditioning
(keep me from her heat sticking my hand to my cheek
eternal expression of awe) i watch her try
to bloom, bear fruit, or at least create honey
to boil in the fevered friction, wailing as she rubs up
against them and they stand, patient shiny statues
sweat gleaming just beneath their skin.

(no subject)

[lucretius.livejournal.com]

Their footless dance
Is of the beautiful liability of their nature.
Their eyes are round, boldly convex, bright as a jewel,
And merciless. They do not know
Compassion, and if they did,
We should not be worthy of it. They fly
In air that glitters like fluent crystal
And is hard as perfectly transparent iron, they cleave it
With no effort. They cry
In tongues multitudinous, often like music.

He slew them, at surprising distances, with his gun.
Over a body held in his hand, his head was bowed low,
But not in grief

He put them where they are, where we see them:
In our imagination.

What is love?

One word for it is knowledge.


Robert Penn Warren -- From "Audubon: A Vision"