This is a 'prose-poem". It does not matter on which word a line of poetry ends.
Your face across the table is this ocean, I reach up into the night sky and give you a star, the star in your hands is menacing with billions of faces smiling up at you, Itouch your skin and florescent paints splash from you, your body is lazy mountains and wandering seas - your body is every tomorrow, I want to paint your naked body over and over again, your hands are the great wall of china, your eyes are every moment that I have ever lived, I justwant to touch you and touch you until all the surrounding buildings melt until all the objects in your bedroom are making love to each other until the entire sky is oceans of fire
I want to paint your bedroom walls with my words - when I think of you I think of bright yellow and light blues and yearning reds and dark blues all falling over your body, I want to create you with words, I want to paint your tuberculosis eyes lonely on every wall and ceiling in new york city, you are the mother mary and I am God and our sins are splashing across this earth, Iwant to turn every building into a startled sculpture of you, I want to paint childhood orange and laughing red and thinking yellow across this city again and again,I want our two bodies to become erased sculptures warring and irresistible, I want our bed to be fire, I want to know your body over and over again, every sunrise is you, your skin is the birth of the human race and your red painted toes are as delicious as the sun, as I kiss your little toes I am kissing the sun!, every word in all the languages is you!, every painting ever created is a painting of you, you are my screaming appetite, you are all my beautiful endless sins, your handsare dance-ing gardens, I kiss you andevery day is sunny and I touch you and every sin is beauty, you are grapes and wine and chocolate and bossanova, you are every bright color dripping from my walls, you are so delicious that all theobjects in the world drip with a happy lusciousness, I paint words to you all over my body, your body is my sunlight, you are a poem that collapses and starts, your face is a thousand secret poems
Copyright ã 2004 by Wolf Larsen
You watch as thousands of ceiling people begin cutting your body up into dinner pieces (like the thunderstorm inside your living room)? So you write disintegrating sculptures obsessing on the page like a thousand splintering-avalanching-canneries drinking your body every second, each word is a hungry knife disordering the English language, each word is a spontaneous grave digger every phrase is a cemetery waiting for my readers
Every moment is dread, every white molecule is exhaustion and regret - the shrieking canneries alive under a crashing galaxy fighting with the mountains and clouds, every night is a hugeblack lushness surrounded by incest, ignorance is a constant tidal wave poised over the small ridiculous town - every mirror is timeless despair, every day is ruin,
So I begin this poem by eating the kitchen sink and drinking alarm clocks, so I begin the poem inside your convulsing memories. . . sculptures?
Copyright 2004 by Wolf Larsen
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Wolf Larsen is an adventurer, poet, playwright, and novelist. He has lived in Chicago, Wisconsin, New York City, Ecuador, and Peru. Wolf worked for twelve years as a seasonal laborer in Alaska. He has traveled to 45 countires in Latin America, Europe, the Middle East, and Asia. Wolf currently livesin Northern Brazil. His first book of poetry is now available. It is entitled Eulogy for the Human Race. Check out his internet site at