Heather Brinkman

 

 

x  x  x

iris of rapscallion   (impassible)
                                                               
vessel of city vivace & Dante
                                                               
South African goddess as caliper
for surely the obliggato of greif's past grieving
be not worth but a murder's dime to you

if not only for this
thaen what?  eruthros
I vinyl repetitious eros quondam

 

 

p  p  p

in the tenements of solace, the year
falls to pale vicor

 

the sickly entrance of irresolution
extends itself to you,while the
threnody within sedition
precludes our fortitude

in the act of forgetting
is so much longing

clashed to the opening
pestle Vega I submitt
                                                               
finally
                                                               
to you

                                                               
the birds are imperishable
as I have lost something
               
               

 

q  q  q

why salve the twelve cicatrix
of a yarned kismet                  
                                                                               
the girl's heels
have stubbed out all
that we too have
yet,
this plodding
is of no sanction
                                                                               
nor is it to the forsythia
nor is it to the harlot

the scarlet has expired
on a devolution
                                                                               
and you are
but a man gone

 

 

f  f  f

you said it was worth
what would otherwise
be left unknown
                                               
but

                                               
I have grown cold
even towards the birds
that fly over this air space

the devestating laughter
of other men's wives as I
expose my vulger knees
                                               

I try to remember where things have gone to but
I cannot