Djuna Moon
Scented
beneath the human art
where up
is in
and down is first left behind
to tend its outside
from then on until
the beating calls a truce
—fat chance
with the motor mouths snapping
trance after trance
hypnotized mousetraps in heat.
Let's remember that
next time one of us
is in
the other.
For now one
multiple moon broken
in wave cups said for you
to see
triangulated by what I saw
and want next
liking it afterwards.
Nightwood's snarling curls
of ink speak
the comic graveside manner
as tenderly as
the old grey book can
reopened to me
you?
"At
her buttocks' soft center a
pulse throbbed like a
fiddle."
The one multiply attached body
hallooed
for everybody from the breathy
heights
of vulgarity.
You mind?
