Charli
Originally uploaded by czvasser
Less than a Butterfly
I'd like to eat some eyes
scalp a head or two
napalm New York L.A. or Kankakee.
When my guts are brick I'd like to throw them
at the window pane of America
because I've been sucked inside out and I'm delicate
about fences housing projects barbed wire
welfare gross national products unemployment and my crotch.
Sensitized inside out to the color of Elsie's pure products
I'd like to put hand grenades in milk bottles
so corn flakes would rip their heads off.
I'd like to defoliate central park so it would look like home.
I'd like to deflower new jersey (though it's been done)
I'd like to denounce kansas
make window bricks from red neck georgia clay.
I'd like to suck on root quiet
settle the dust
sleep and not get up until soft was waiting for me.
I'd like to move and move and move like a dancer
out of Harlem out of Watts out of the south side
from uptown to down or the other way around
from Appalachia Soweto Dachau Main Street.
I want to get out of the hills
out of the towns
not be the buzz in somebody's ear.
I want to be yes when my little girl wants
all fingertips on skin
honey and bees in a beech tree
a coral burst that puzzle blends part of a spectrum
electric then magnetic
a wave that crests and crashes on the beaches of america
and sucks the sand down deep.
I want to be a face not pointed at with baseballs.
No more grease paint or wet canvas
and peanut eating crowds that leave after the elephants roll over.
Spin a web so I cannot see the sun
but I will not lie down waiting to be stung.
I don't want to be less than a butterfly.
Let me sing braids and ribbons without ropes and burning nights
and the smell of flesh curling up to heaven
as tears fall down like wheat before a sickle.
Give me an icarian chance and I will melt or fly over a mirrored humanity.
scalp a head or two
napalm New York L.A. or Kankakee.
When my guts are brick I'd like to throw them
at the window pane of America
because I've been sucked inside out and I'm delicate
about fences housing projects barbed wire
welfare gross national products unemployment and my crotch.
Sensitized inside out to the color of Elsie's pure products
I'd like to put hand grenades in milk bottles
so corn flakes would rip their heads off.
I'd like to defoliate central park so it would look like home.
I'd like to deflower new jersey (though it's been done)
I'd like to denounce kansas
make window bricks from red neck georgia clay.
I'd like to suck on root quiet
settle the dust
sleep and not get up until soft was waiting for me.
I'd like to move and move and move like a dancer
out of Harlem out of Watts out of the south side
from uptown to down or the other way around
from Appalachia Soweto Dachau Main Street.
I want to get out of the hills
out of the towns
not be the buzz in somebody's ear.
I want to be yes when my little girl wants
all fingertips on skin
honey and bees in a beech tree
a coral burst that puzzle blends part of a spectrum
electric then magnetic
a wave that crests and crashes on the beaches of america
and sucks the sand down deep.
I want to be a face not pointed at with baseballs.
No more grease paint or wet canvas
and peanut eating crowds that leave after the elephants roll over.
Spin a web so I cannot see the sun
but I will not lie down waiting to be stung.
I don't want to be less than a butterfly.
Let me sing braids and ribbons without ropes and burning nights
and the smell of flesh curling up to heaven
as tears fall down like wheat before a sickle.
Give me an icarian chance and I will melt or fly over a mirrored humanity.
Margin Poem
Pumpkin shell hollow and candle light
memory seeds to be dried
a pile of guts on old news.
Arrest it in your mouth
muddy men think not
flash floods inflame
leave you more alive than dead
wet homeless sensitive to dawn.
Beyond nocturnal radiation
mushroom on something dead
dance naked in Eve's hollow
before and after birth.
memory seeds to be dried
a pile of guts on old news.
Arrest it in your mouth
muddy men think not
flash floods inflame
leave you more alive than dead
wet homeless sensitive to dawn.
Beyond nocturnal radiation
mushroom on something dead
dance naked in Eve's hollow
before and after birth.
My Father's Hands
Everyone wants surgeon hands
blood covered deft fingers.
Pianist painter guilt free hands
worker hands praying angry
athletes raised fists.
I’ve got my father's hammer hands
nail fingers benzene burns calluses and scars
his hands knew tools and birthmarks
his fingers sharp knew magic wood.
My father's hands knew liquor
trembling poured watch your back sad lonely drinks
crushed beer cans rabbit punched palmed dollars and razors.
His hands knew snake eyed dice
inside straights bent edge cards.
His fingers were fishnets
knew back doors down but not out whores
silk hems straight hair curls
did not look it they knew women.
His hands knew chicken necks
bull necks red necks and throats
sway backs ups and downs
blacks and whites white and black
left fingerprints on mom and me.
My father's hands wanted no others.
I wanted his touch I have no hands.
blood covered deft fingers.
Pianist painter guilt free hands
worker hands praying angry
athletes raised fists.
I’ve got my father's hammer hands
nail fingers benzene burns calluses and scars
his hands knew tools and birthmarks
his fingers sharp knew magic wood.
My father's hands knew liquor
trembling poured watch your back sad lonely drinks
crushed beer cans rabbit punched palmed dollars and razors.
His hands knew snake eyed dice
inside straights bent edge cards.
His fingers were fishnets
knew back doors down but not out whores
silk hems straight hair curls
did not look it they knew women.
His hands knew chicken necks
bull necks red necks and throats
sway backs ups and downs
blacks and whites white and black
left fingerprints on mom and me.
My father's hands wanted no others.
I wanted his touch I have no hands.
The Pretty Things
The pretty things
I could have kissed
the parties I have missed
it comes to this
unnatural pose
mangled flowers
children wailing under chairs
a teaspoon full of tears.
Ah, the parties, the pretty things
missed, kissed, it come to this.
I could have kissed
the parties I have missed
it comes to this
unnatural pose
mangled flowers
children wailing under chairs
a teaspoon full of tears.
Ah, the parties, the pretty things
missed, kissed, it come to this.
The Awkward Window
In the summer when your curtains
play with the wind
my eyes turn
to your open window.
I linger
and tumble down
until
I am thoughts of things
that were and were not.
In the fall when colors blare
signalling a coming or a going
I gather and I do not
I pass your window
there is a sense of harvest
a time of cornucopia
a feeling the grain bins
of the spirit will be filled
the time of growing has yielded
to maturation.
Winter comes and freezes on your window
I am more huddled now
your drapes not animate
your window will not look at me.
Then there is spring
with its pastels of inconsistencies
I hold my longing as I do my breath.
I am outside the seasons.
There is no face that waits
no heart upon the curtains
why look at that awkward window
except I might see you there.
play with the wind
my eyes turn
to your open window.
I linger
and tumble down
until
I am thoughts of things
that were and were not.
In the fall when colors blare
signalling a coming or a going
I gather and I do not
I pass your window
there is a sense of harvest
a time of cornucopia
a feeling the grain bins
of the spirit will be filled
the time of growing has yielded
to maturation.
Winter comes and freezes on your window
I am more huddled now
your drapes not animate
your window will not look at me.
Then there is spring
with its pastels of inconsistencies
I hold my longing as I do my breath.
I am outside the seasons.
There is no face that waits
no heart upon the curtains
why look at that awkward window
except I might see you there.
3:00 A.M.
In that half world
of waking and sleeping
warm and deep
come slow
across the room
on my back
close to my ear
whisper
I know you want me
. . . wait
Low groan moan
writhe
grind hips
bite
then lick the mark away
suck
tongue tracing a pattern
whisper
I know you want me
. . . wait
slide down
snake legs
up again
down again
smooth over me
how you burn
your body says
I know you want me
. . . wait
Massage
coiled shoulders
nails
create counterpoints
nipples harden
breasts propel
purr
you know I want you
. . . wait
straddle softly
palms brush breasts
knead my spine
lean forward
close to my ear
and whisper
I know you want me
. . . now.
of waking and sleeping
warm and deep
come slow
across the room
on my back
close to my ear
whisper
I know you want me
. . . wait
Low groan moan
writhe
grind hips
bite
then lick the mark away
suck
tongue tracing a pattern
whisper
I know you want me
. . . wait
slide down
snake legs
up again
down again
smooth over me
how you burn
your body says
I know you want me
. . . wait
Massage
coiled shoulders
nails
create counterpoints
nipples harden
breasts propel
purr
you know I want you
. . . wait
straddle softly
palms brush breasts
knead my spine
lean forward
close to my ear
and whisper
I know you want me
. . . now.
Anthony
Eros be my armor
as theirs is Mars
explain in 1000 years
what I cannot tonight.
My sword is bronze for her
so too, 10,000 men
when Phoebus flies
we all die
in someone else’s arms.
She waits for me
to slaughter myself
with smiles and kisses
I put the point
to her navel
one quick thrust
might sever state
one would go
from sleep to wake.
They ask too much
led by legions
nubians and elephants
a circus
not now
her scent on me
seed on her fingertips.
Quick sand
I have lost my way
and the day for her.
Shall I draw
an honorable bath
leave her to her wiles
she has guile
and skin and thighs and eyes
deeper than my might.
So men die
for my black love
blood floods the Nile.
as theirs is Mars
explain in 1000 years
what I cannot tonight.
My sword is bronze for her
so too, 10,000 men
when Phoebus flies
we all die
in someone else’s arms.
She waits for me
to slaughter myself
with smiles and kisses
I put the point
to her navel
one quick thrust
might sever state
one would go
from sleep to wake.
They ask too much
led by legions
nubians and elephants
a circus
not now
her scent on me
seed on her fingertips.
Quick sand
I have lost my way
and the day for her.
Shall I draw
an honorable bath
leave her to her wiles
she has guile
and skin and thighs and eyes
deeper than my might.
So men die
for my black love
blood floods the Nile.
Jane Jazz
Cool as smooth
sunrise to sunset.
Sunrise cool
she moves
she moans
she is sunset
blazing red and hot yellow
mixed with black things
awakening howls
beneath primitive.
sunrise to sunset.
Sunrise cool
she moves
she moans
she is sunset
blazing red and hot yellow
mixed with black things
awakening howls
beneath primitive.
Give unto caesar
what is caesar's
but dat gal's
but dat gal's
gotta get some.
Got mo people stoppin
den da dew drop inn.
She oughta ask somebody
cause she don't know
how fine she is.
Got mo people stoppin
den da dew drop inn.
She oughta ask somebody
cause she don't know
how fine she is.
Smooth to cool
loving her just ought to be.
loving her just ought to be.
Say nothing now
lay afraid
between duets
An ibo cameo
night just before the stars
lay afraid
between duets
An ibo cameo
night just before the stars
Give unto god
what is god's
but lawd
but lawd
let me have her for a while
she'll come
she'll come
when sportin life calls
she'll go
I cain't stop her
she got to be somebody
got to find something.
I cain't stop her
she got to be somebody
got to find something.
Cool to smooth too
check.
Palm Sunday preachin'
Easter clothes
spirit on high
thank you jesus
head down
hand waving
fist full of money
amen.
Smokey at three
ladies are a pair.
lawd have mercy
head down
hand waving
southern comfort
amen.
check.
Palm Sunday preachin'
Easter clothes
spirit on high
thank you jesus
head down
hand waving
fist full of money
amen.
Smokey at three
ladies are a pair.
lawd have mercy
head down
hand waving
southern comfort
amen.
temptation
between heaven and earth
souls lost and won
forgive me father
cause Jane Jazz is
cool and smooth
amen.
cool and smooth
amen.
Mom says
stay way from dat
stay way from dat
Dad says
marry dat quick
marry dat quick
the boys say
hit dat and quit dat
hit dat and quit dat
soul akimbo
her hair a flair
only she understands.
high note cool
low note smooth
A razor
that cuts to the bone
leaving a scar.
damn.
To a Lost Love
The land blows away
one handful at a time.
It heaps against the windows
in forgotten places
now and again.
The rain ran through her hair
filled her mouth
slipped from her fingers.
Now comes the dust bowl years.
The swirls catch me up
drop me nowhere
near the rainbow.
Mirrors held face to face
diminishing
endless.
How endless is the land
her yield diminishing.
How forward and reverse
a curse of knowledge.
The rain was today.
Rivulets from her shoulders
down her arms
and off her fingertips.
I lay under them
hoping
drops of potent potion
will fill me as a well.
Waterfalls vaporize
create forest and frenzy
cool and calm
pool and purpose.
A perfectly cornered thing
blows across the land
hides queens
and covers kings
with dust.
It points beyond the wind
to a heart that holds lost love.
one handful at a time.
It heaps against the windows
in forgotten places
now and again.
The rain ran through her hair
filled her mouth
slipped from her fingers.
Now comes the dust bowl years.
The swirls catch me up
drop me nowhere
near the rainbow.
Mirrors held face to face
diminishing
endless.
How endless is the land
her yield diminishing.
How forward and reverse
a curse of knowledge.
The rain was today.
Rivulets from her shoulders
down her arms
and off her fingertips.
I lay under them
hoping
drops of potent potion
will fill me as a well.
Waterfalls vaporize
create forest and frenzy
cool and calm
pool and purpose.
A perfectly cornered thing
blows across the land
hides queens
and covers kings
with dust.
It points beyond the wind
to a heart that holds lost love.
#38
Should I coolly cascade up the stairs
and meet him.
Should I throw down our faces
and our wits
or should I not.
Should I buy the beer
and frost a heart
as one would a glass.
Should I sift the sawdust
for the diamonds that lay there.
Should my elbow be more
mahogany than bone.
Should she behind the bar
know my eyes and my limit
or should I pass
to the rest room
and flush the handled john
even though it wasn't used.
Should I eat
with the napkin folded in my lap
or should I palm the spoon.
Should I slip the peas into my sleeve.
I am afraid to smile
as I might be a crocodilian thing
and my laugh
a howl at the moon.
Will I shake his hand.
I think that I could not.
How could I be so bronze
when all my blood is hot wax
and my ankles so well turned.
How might I enjoin a man
that spins a melody
I once hummed.
How should I tie my shoes
and be clean as a new ass.
Oh, should I or
should I not.
How could I meet him
and not
hold her hand to long.
and meet him.
Should I throw down our faces
and our wits
or should I not.
Should I buy the beer
and frost a heart
as one would a glass.
Should I sift the sawdust
for the diamonds that lay there.
Should my elbow be more
mahogany than bone.
Should she behind the bar
know my eyes and my limit
or should I pass
to the rest room
and flush the handled john
even though it wasn't used.
Should I eat
with the napkin folded in my lap
or should I palm the spoon.
Should I slip the peas into my sleeve.
I am afraid to smile
as I might be a crocodilian thing
and my laugh
a howl at the moon.
Will I shake his hand.
I think that I could not.
How could I be so bronze
when all my blood is hot wax
and my ankles so well turned.
How might I enjoin a man
that spins a melody
I once hummed.
How should I tie my shoes
and be clean as a new ass.
Oh, should I or
should I not.
How could I meet him
and not
hold her hand to long.
Valentine
Pick a petal
drop it with a wish
for fire
or a cooling.
Wrap a chocolate
in a ribbon
and think picasso nude.
Hold your breath
until your lungs burn
and pretend it is desire,
but be my valentine.
Sleep with teddymen
and angular women.
Dance arabesque
on bistro tables.
Never think of me
but be my valentine.
Hold your hands
so that I might come
between them.
Close your eyes.
I will be a hologram
Light as light
upon your lips.
Be my valentine.
Be my valentine
A paper cut heart
the texture of sin.
Be my valentine.
So much depends
upon your reply.
drop it with a wish
for fire
or a cooling.
Wrap a chocolate
in a ribbon
and think picasso nude.
Hold your breath
until your lungs burn
and pretend it is desire,
but be my valentine.
Sleep with teddymen
and angular women.
Dance arabesque
on bistro tables.
Never think of me
but be my valentine.
Hold your hands
so that I might come
between them.
Close your eyes.
I will be a hologram
Light as light
upon your lips.
Be my valentine.
Be my valentine
A paper cut heart
the texture of sin.
Be my valentine.
So much depends
upon your reply.
Unremembered
How now was her mouth a thing
of teeth and tongue
when just a thought ago
they were oil wells.
of teeth and tongue
when just a thought ago
they were oil wells.
Tea Cups
savored by lips
intimate with tepid
indifferent to scalds and scolds
utensils
appreciated occasionally
for beauty
form
function
found out in a small cupboard
survivors of rough treatment
tea cups
forged by itinerant alchemists
tinkering with fire, bone and ash
clumsy hands
and unexpected emotions
have killed others
vessels filled with temptation
and a new leaf.
intimate with tepid
indifferent to scalds and scolds
utensils
appreciated occasionally
for beauty
form
function
found out in a small cupboard
survivors of rough treatment
tea cups
forged by itinerant alchemists
tinkering with fire, bone and ash
clumsy hands
and unexpected emotions
have killed others
vessels filled with temptation
and a new leaf.
I want to be a crayon today
I want to be a crayon today
instrument of imagination
intermediary to ideas
incendiary to action
A familiar of the hand
the color of thought
iridescent when I want to be
waxy smooth
I want to be hugged
by cinnabars and ceruleans
blended on rag
with indigo and heliotrope
always firm
except when radiated
easily sharpened
shaving of once was
proud scribble of sunday
the purple of saturday
melting all over you
I want to be a crayon today
instrument of imagination
intermediary to ideas
incendiary to action
A familiar of the hand
the color of thought
iridescent when I want to be
waxy smooth
I want to be hugged
by cinnabars and ceruleans
blended on rag
with indigo and heliotrope
always firm
except when radiated
easily sharpened
shaving of once was
proud scribble of sunday
the purple of saturday
melting all over you
I want to be a crayon today
Natural Arc
I watch the leaves shimmer
in the light and grow
and die and I suppose
that when the earth
gives up
its diadems that this
has a cosmology to it
As when the river rushes
to suicide so quiet
that no sound is breeched
but still
there is rebirth
I swing out
on a natural arc
that returns me
broken brilliantly
like so many copper pennies
I ask you
is this the depth of it
Shall I cast a net
bring back those commended to the deep
or should I sow
the sorrows that I reap
is it better to sew
mouths shut
capturing odd pebbles
or should we brook
all things in a sputter
based on spark and circumstance
I follow this natural arc
all rainbows have right angles
I return to tidal pool
by eclipsing one eye
then both
each a handful
of water and light
each a dream wing
that means nothing without another
I swing out
and it returns me
fractured
as a pebble busted pond
I swing out
as I do I follow the natural arc
a metre
a time
a space between some joy
or pain
that has a reason to be
more that a gaudy bauble
I hang upon your breasts
a natural arc
I follow to conclusion
do I ask how full
the measure or the season
or do I hurl
into the curve
and does the crowd
sigh
for more.
in the light and grow
and die and I suppose
that when the earth
gives up
its diadems that this
has a cosmology to it
As when the river rushes
to suicide so quiet
that no sound is breeched
but still
there is rebirth
I swing out
on a natural arc
that returns me
broken brilliantly
like so many copper pennies
I ask you
is this the depth of it
Shall I cast a net
bring back those commended to the deep
or should I sow
the sorrows that I reap
is it better to sew
mouths shut
capturing odd pebbles
or should we brook
all things in a sputter
based on spark and circumstance
I follow this natural arc
all rainbows have right angles
I return to tidal pool
by eclipsing one eye
then both
each a handful
of water and light
each a dream wing
that means nothing without another
I swing out
and it returns me
fractured
as a pebble busted pond
I swing out
as I do I follow the natural arc
a metre
a time
a space between some joy
or pain
that has a reason to be
more that a gaudy bauble
I hang upon your breasts
a natural arc
I follow to conclusion
do I ask how full
the measure or the season
or do I hurl
into the curve
and does the crowd
sigh
for more.
What You Wish For
Be
A saw against hard wood
A dust pile
A small breath
When you sigh
Imagine a hurricane
Careful
As you measure
Each line becomes a cut
Each cut becomes a scar
Each scar becomes a badge
Of loving you
What
Furniture we make
More than a bed
Parallel to our desires
akimbo to our thoughts
You
Want the hammer now
Beat down the nails
the saw was not enough
I hold out my hands
Wish
That the clouds
Would fill the empty places
And raise us where our needs
Are pure
For
In our loins and time
There lays an almost perfect truth
Of stealth and thievery
A saw against hard wood
A dust pile
A small breath
When you sigh
Imagine a hurricane
Careful
As you measure
Each line becomes a cut
Each cut becomes a scar
Each scar becomes a badge
Of loving you
What
Furniture we make
More than a bed
Parallel to our desires
akimbo to our thoughts
You
Want the hammer now
Beat down the nails
the saw was not enough
I hold out my hands
Wish
That the clouds
Would fill the empty places
And raise us where our needs
Are pure
For
In our loins and time
There lays an almost perfect truth
Of stealth and thievery
The Color of My Life
Black is color of my life. Black are my lover’s eyes. Black her swaddling clothes. She races life in black stilettos. My, my, my. Black is life before creation. Black is life after the apocalypse. Black crepe paper is the night sky with junkie tracks we call stars. Black like me. Yes. No. Black is the color of my heart. Black are my tears. My black blood vanishes into the black earth. The pits of hell are black. My deeds are black. My future is black. My children are black. The stories I read them have black morals. Young, gifted and too black. Shoe shine black. Boot black. Tar baby black. Black gold. Black is beautiful. Black is where it’s at. Jazz is black. Didn’t you know. Blues is black. Black is blues. Just a color variation, but it’s black. I read black. I buy black. I fuck black. God is Black. You didn’t know that. The road is black. Black is shuffling to the brink of humiliation. That’s a black joke. It’s a black thing. Black is the long day's journey perforated by an occasional riot we call color. Black is what we close our eyes to. Remember that. Black is what we close our eyes to. And still we rise because what else are we to do. We are black.
Across the Room
Across the room
Still breath in her mouth
Unmoved I stumble
Her eyes x-ray mine.
Zigzag I think
She as the crow flies
Impenetrably black
She mobs
Leaving me a handful
Of sweat and ash.
Upon her whispers
I stand and bow
She laughs I come
I come she laughs.
Her voice an uprising
She dances round the wagons
and takes my scalp
wears it when in sequins
and tells the girls
she’s had better pelts.
Still breath in her mouth
Unmoved I stumble
Her eyes x-ray mine.
Zigzag I think
She as the crow flies
Impenetrably black
She mobs
Leaving me a handful
Of sweat and ash.
Upon her whispers
I stand and bow
She laughs I come
I come she laughs.
Her voice an uprising
She dances round the wagons
and takes my scalp
wears it when in sequins
and tells the girls
she’s had better pelts.
Dance With Me
Stand close
make contact
invade me
Sail the islands of my spine
with your fingerships
land the beach
below my britches
Release the tiger
from its eyelash cage
eat the aphrodisiac
while the world watches
leave claw marks
scent mark me
with golden you
Slow big toe mambo
writhe, slither, bounce, jump
pump, slide, glide, jiggle, giggle
****
make love
don’t stop
use that secret snare
to kill the snake
I don’t care
I don’t love you any less.
make contact
invade me
Sail the islands of my spine
with your fingerships
land the beach
below my britches
Release the tiger
from its eyelash cage
eat the aphrodisiac
while the world watches
leave claw marks
scent mark me
with golden you
Slow big toe mambo
writhe, slither, bounce, jump
pump, slide, glide, jiggle, giggle
****
make love
don’t stop
use that secret snare
to kill the snake
I don’t care
I don’t love you any less.
September 11
September 11
long lost love day
so after drinks
I found a red shoe
lover
that was good
god
but I have flowers
to remember.
Days are balloons
with string teases
when released
where do they go.
I've never held
more than tricks
treats
and forget‑me‑nots.
long lost love day
so after drinks
I found a red shoe
lover
that was good
god
but I have flowers
to remember.
Days are balloons
with string teases
when released
where do they go.
I've never held
more than tricks
treats
and forget‑me‑nots.
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