the AC trilogy - III

To tell you exactly what I feel in unquoted dawn,
in language plain as a teacher of elementary math,
where on her chalkboard a plus appears and then is gone,
her students moved less by numbers than, in passing, a laugh,
a confidence returns them to the abstract
division, which for them is still a game, not sense.
Words are in my sunrise, blacked
When for me, formless, language offers no defense.
Multiply the feeling left by the subtraction
But with what, if not words, or blood, or integers’ quartz crystal
or anything that might take the place of action?
Slowly dew collects beneath the flower’s pistil.
A man alone is reduced to just a fraction
Of the one needed to make his work greater than distraction.






(2007)

                                                                                                               

the AC trilogy - II

For such an all-consuming,
pervasive everything,
God is too short a word.
The word for God should have
at least twenty-five syllables,
so as to remind all who utter it that their God is that of other galaxies,
of every stone.
That is why I know I love you.
I do love God, but God alone is too big for all this
just to be about that.
I know that when I think of you it could not only be
a metaphor for the grand unity,
the one syllable,
god.
My love distinguishes itself among other instances,
radio cardio
thrill of sensing it is you.
God of Diastole, God of Systole
together we search the lonely kingdom for traces of goddess.
Virgin Parthenia, it is I
your mirror!
Assassin for the gentle and true
hashshasheen to the lazy Tantrix
razor blades sheathed at the tips of my petals
In the long grand line of epic tales real people
are created by this writer we call God
and those who believe
make a name for themselves.
God has already helped me plenty. But I still need you!



                                                                                               


                                                                                         SAVELOVE
                                                                                               2006

the AC trilogy - I

                                    “Taggin’ Along with Sav’s Old Siren Song”

What I wouldn’t give

for soft kisses in the night

for confidences, tight

for whispers in the year of my love,

no mister shaman.

for whispers in the ear of our love

No.

for the lore of j’te adore

Sorry mister, but you’ve already gave all.

You’re the bloody Beloved boy

What I wouldn’t give

for a festival of trees

for public ecstasies

Instinctual ideal vision unto practical world peace.

‘Twould still have its series of imperfect robberies

Like the hearts yet to be taken from a million unhatched mes.

Hungry god, hungry goddess

We shall pour our paint on canvas

Beloved lover, lover beloved

We shall live the rhymes of jewels before us

                                                                                                            (in the wee hours of April 10, 2005)