SECTION TEN
POETRY PAGE FIVE

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COLUMN FORTY-FOUR, APRIL 1, 1999
(Copyright 1999 Al Aronowitz)

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made of these

i saw you
writhing
beneath my lips
lucid images
calling to me - in my sleep
with shuddering
palpable flesh

but who
vague shade
would dare
to seize
       these
my secret thoughts
from drooping lids
and trembling
      parted
lips.

so i awoke
drenched in your
fleeting
                half-scent
keenly aware
of this fictitious
           taste
this dream
still lingering
on warm sheets.

Coming to terms with. . .

Browsing through empty cupboards
  of thought
I am lost in myself
Waiting for release
From this half-life
I have chosen
To forget the very substance
Of my
      fingers
The distant trembling rancor
Of angst ridden contemplation.

And fruition
With it's
     false promises
Fills my broken cup
Letting time seep
Through each guilt riddled
          crack.

And peace herself
Has forgotten how to heal
How to bind my wounds
With gauzy condolences
And worn out
                 rosary beads
I am undone
I confess...

I can no longer feel
The intricate sting
Of my own mediocrity.  ##

* * *

You too

brown eyes
envelope me
in seas of tender
earthy blood
and i fall victim to
the eloquence of your body
your hands
and you evaporate
before me
beneath my tongue
inside my head
filling me up
spilling over the brim
with your salty
dribbling
liquid
voice.  ##

* * *

salvation of sorts

On a commonplace street
In the homogenized suburb
Of an regular and ordinary city
sat window boxes
And the certainty
Of the ice cream truck
Bringing its frozen bliss
To eager lips
In the sweltering heat
Of June

And daily
Rhythmically
I watched the young
Tender bodies
Stretch in the sunlight
Moodily awaiting
Redemption
In the delicate flesh
Of an ice cream sandwich  ##

* * *

Duty

My tender fingertips
Aching. . .
Fastidiously arching their
            golden
Backs. . .
Slaves to the every whim
Of my lucid imagination.

My body
             dancing
To the beat of my vague desires

And I
This slave of manic dreaming
And thick tongued want
Have misplaced my reason
In a smoothe grey pool of
                         wine
And tender opiates

But what have I to do
With all this obedience? ##

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