a legacy left
with pages gripped in hands
a vulnerable knot of naked girls;
ministering angels, engaging
meting morphemes
with narcotic nuance
attracting educible addicts
seducing them in pulses
the Cyprian sea floods its banks
from a spate of sudden showers
this luxuriant lavement
soothing the shallow
in depths
I’ve painted a masterpiece with you as a color
In long, loving strokes
Beautifully tangled, beguiling lines
Limning out your perfect pink
And blending it with thumbs against another shade
Shaping moving portraits
Fully head above unsteady heels
In love, in ways, with my creation
Puffed proud and released, slacked,
Ready as I am to unveil you – it -
The masterpiece -
in sapphic shades
Upon a hungry world
But – and this is my anger -
One ungrateful color, in some sentient -
no – incendiary – insane – moment
Regrettably sought to shutter it from every eye
Shamefully refusing my right
To her own shades
Causing me to hate them -
Hide them -
From a useless world
A world left then
With a hunger
The size and shape of which is you
By a lunatic -
For it is indeed a lunatic that steals art from eyes
So my masterpiece atrophies in darkness
And I fear I’ll never utter it again
My favorite pink, the only one that matters,
Has sharpened, then,
Soured to share itself again with other colors
Afraid to blend with thumbs
And let me drag it across eyes in my own ways
Refusing the chance to be betrayed again
Instead she should stir, angry as well,
And offer herself to sooth my regret
And leap from my mind to brush -
Dance, grapple, bite, blend -
Across a canvas
With brand new hues,
Colors closer to her Current
Ones that will not refuse my right to their shades
So my masterpiece will display in brilliant light
And pierce for me the fear that I’ll never utter it again…
Chicago, my wife
New Orleans, my lover
The miles between, the pathetic stretch
Pangs of pleasure that wring the heart
Letting the blood
Leaking ghosts from gaunt faces
Seizing me with the shame
That I cannot share them, one with other
Chicago, sexual,
Beautiful,
Strong
Not afraid to get dirty
To strike at me in smirks
Proud and affable
With chips set squarely on broad shoulders
New Orleans, visceral,
Thick,
Vulgar
With hellish stares
Stabbing at my ribs in lustful blows
Proud, ineffable
A self aware serpent with alluring curves
Chicago,
Majestic,
Organized,
Obvious
A proud lioness that stalks in daylight
New Orleans,
Rattled,
Deceitful,
Unclear
A sheep-suited wolf dependent on night
Chicago, my bride
New Orleans, my addiction
The miles between, the protection I need
The salve between seductions
The healing between destructions
The shame that seizes me
For daring to devour them both at once
oh fortunes
we have found you
as in a garden
arrayed
displayed
in brusque stalks
hazed in vapor
bathed in summery dew
oh happiness
we have found you here
as you reach for us
blind
rimed,
your clumsy mouths
slavering to be taken
and bathed by ours
and so, in clouds we bow
and take you in
ending you in torpor
swallowing your sweet drink
as we take our leave
and leave you uncivil
but not ungracious
dressed only to hips in half gowns
silken shifts that brush the floor
but cling to bottoms
and caress curls at little pastoral patches,
or nibble at perfect pastries,
delicate delicacies -
hidden parcels with moistened clefts,
the perfumed cradles of token keys
on long pearled chains that brush the floor
but cling to belts
that rest on half-gowned hips
our sisters hold in hands a glass
cast from her breast
unique, its arcing bell -
an umbilicate analogue
of a darling hillock -
each satisfied with wine,
the satin tears of rent figs
and vintages trampled with pointed toes
pregnant with piquant notes
sung in spicy strains
bless them,
they don’t want to their level heads
and so they breathe the wine
and roll the stuff with fingers
that want to plunge with pleasure deeply into clefts
yet they wait with wanting smiles
and exchange instead complexly coded niceties
as if this may be any common affair
but paint dozens of bare breasts with glancing brushes
then as the aristocratic angel in charge of this immodesty
sets to mete delicious revolution
and slides a fragile finger beneath her own skirt
to pluck a key on a long pearled chain
from the soft embrace of its chamber
wrought iron gates are wrung from minds
and decorum fades in cravings
sung in tears from rent figs
with piquant notes on spicy strains
dozens of keys now expelled from baptismal pools
pulled to the kiss of lips on long pearled chains
and dropped then from fingers in laconic clinks
checked by nectars to rest
each glass is raised to replenish mouths,
to decant its tears past fig-parched lips
dispensing chemicals into hearts,
past wills,
like keys,
past walls -
dispensing with decency, dovetailing wit and intellect
with virtuous vice -
unlocking approvals and pulling manacles from wrists
and striking wine-soaked tongues on wine-soaked tongues
and peeling half-gowns from hips
and clutching at clefts
and leveling level heads
gather savages
tuxedoed fiends
dandied apologies for artists
and raise your glass
gather angels
in mawkish costumes
prepare your hidden parcels
and raise your glass
now we sing to Ganz’s Apollo
into a night meant for drunkeness
and brace ourselves for naked chases
and fill our glass again
gather poet
in gold flecked robes
weild your lyre in Her darling name
and tilt your glass
gather unsober saints
and brave the chill
with swollen pride and pants
and tilt your glass
now we hear Her elegant renata
and laud with heavy paws in bursts
and right ourselves for taking chances
and fill our glass again
gather beasties
pompous daubers
fling Her veils into the night
and chill her chiseled skin
gather larrikins
take hold of angels
haughty daughters
and pull them from their dresses
now we sing and drink and fuck
into a night meant for drunkeness
and right ourselves for grappling asses
and fill our glass again
almost dressed, or rather drenched
in eager costumes, clinging,
precious parcels hidden away
for now
under extravagances
and curious clasps
last looks in mirrors
with tucks and daubs
and shameless winks
batted lashes promising lust
and more
for now
yet now
with warm, wet dews
that seep from lips
to soften slitted pillows of sweet skin
and click their thickly smack
the pitch of liquid,
of exotic perfumes
and fingers tracing clefts
gathering up dewy beads
with finespun fingertips
to spot on necks and wrists
like frangrant oils
from curious lands
instead, sex elixirs
float through skies
as pulsing breaths
from beat to beat
this whirling whisper,
wisps of heaven
the scented liquor
of Her intoxicating fig
presented as perfume
chicago was made by made men
made of greasy handshakes
and wandering winks
policies poured out
with whiskeys on tiny tables
in cordoned-off clubs
manipulated in moneys
under heavy hands
sliding dog-eared bills for ear-marked favors
this city was framed
between the lipstick smack of stripteuses
and ham-handed spanks from self-styled bosses
laws tendered in smoky hazes
intended as gimmicks
pitched at preachers to settle scores
arrangements hatched by boys
in boys clubs filled with girls
who shake for the boys who shake down other boys
from the L&L to the 606,
the Liberty Inn to the world’s least tropical Tropicana
pinwheel pasties trade promises with power-brokers
yes, this broad shouldered city,
was birthed in strip clubs
and shouldered by burlesque broads
only as shiny as scuffed rhinestones
flung with gloves into the rafters
a two-dimensional glamorscape with schemes in veins just beneath
with platforms peeled naked as teasers
as beautifully arrogant as each bump, each grind
with all the class and pretense of a Madison Street window
big-assed brass with backaches from stooping for tips
keeping constituents constantly aloft
tilting at windmill tassels
an endless parade of pompous circumstance
and pauper’s applause
wealthy lumps, captains of industry
a counterfeit brain trust blowing their wads of money
on saccharine skins in four inch heels
daubed doxies, losing their shirts willingly
press my knees against
the well worn stage’s well worn apron
belly me up
to the low slung table under nicotine mottled, burn blotted linens
i’ve learned to clap heartily
with a cigarette perched between two fingers
without ashing
to absent-mindedly drag on the thing
plugging away without looking
finding the butt with my tongue
and adding my own thin lipped sizzle to the hi-hat and crash
i’ve learned to lean forward
just over the footlights
even shaved what beard i had
it would get so damn hot
i’ve learned to stroke my sweaty shot of cold whiskey
when my fidgeting hand needs something to do
slamming it past my teeth every twelve minutes or so
to dole out my thunder in aching applause
i’m here for the hypnotist
the one with the narcotizing eyes
that mystical mien
held in the physique of a tawny bawd
a lithe bag of bones draped in elastic pieces
that spring and quiver at her urging
the one covered in pearls
(to use a loose term loosely)
a slip of see-through structure
filled with twisting body
detailed in trembling tassel
clinging for dear life to each spasm and throb
she picks her footing easily
landing each shard of stiletto
in pocks dug four times a night
for the last six years
the touch down of each toe
a tapping baton
to keep time for the clean faced striplings behind their bandstands
with each wobble
i’m pulled further out into my shrinking skin
without opening her mouth
i’m riveted to every word she plants somewhere past my face
held in mid-air, slavering, a god damned dog
agog, pavlovian,
just fucking soaking in it
there is no stillness,
just flutters and quakes
and impudent little breasts making their proud little fly-by
and nervy cheeks joggling, jerking under pearls
the saucy split globes waggle and swing
each giving off its own distinct heat
setting me in a daze shy of madness
ecstatic, catatonic
sending my own sentience down my throat in whiskey swallows
now turning upstage in a splayed stance
with knees crooked a degree or twenty,
and fisted arms up, elbows crushing back,
trotting out tits for the god damned squirts in the brass section
her spine torqued like a winded mizzen
exposing a spanker, on offer
like some rippling lottery prize
to be raked at with both hands
she winks at the tadpole behind the traps
cueing a double stick simmer
a rolling snare skin clap of brewing thunder
that heats the tinder somewhere in her heart
provoking wicked embers to stoke to flame
rupturing out in jouncing waves
licking at my eyes
whipping my frenzied tongue into the roof of my mouth
convulsing in jarring jerks
that churn and reel in increasing waves
then i’m clinched
the coup-de-grace
the concussive quietus
orgasmically waking me from my sweat-soaked, whiskey-stained,
dragging-without-ashing stupor
to dole out my thunder in aching applause
she’s hypnotized me four times a night
for nearly six years
from my table pressed against the well worn apron of her stage
my debauched little shaman
shaking her bodhi into my brain
in bawdy pulses and spasming strings of pearls
Chicago is a fucking city
not because she inspires romance like Paris
or the let’s-fuck-before-the-asteroid-hits survival of Manhattan
but because she is fuck
under her skin
she’s slick and manipulative
a little underhanded
always beautiful when’s she’s warm
always ready to turn a broad cold shoulder
you can grip her with fingernails
and she will not break
she’ll beg, in fact,
always a little out of breath
