VORTEX SUTRA
Straightway from God I come into my redeeming skin.
- Anne Sexton
When You Showed Me Brooklyn Bridge
When you showed me Brooklyn Bridge
in the morning,
Ah god,
light all around you
you raised your eyes and looked at me sharp
“I have visions all the time”
people rushing to work
from their nice homes
clutching their coffees
nice homes but renting
anyway
there go the birds
carte blanche
nothing can hold you
dues are paid
they’ll have to find you
where they find you
Mexico City
turning down
a whole lot of blow
too young when your mom
found you
on the bathroom floor
how you told me, so earnest
and I couldn’t sleep for weeks.
Mad and gifted
baring your paintings to heaven
holding the light, the light
drawing me closer, closer
to your chest that scented heaven
good god,
like all of heaven
that’s when I taught you tears
that morning on the bridge
nobody else
knew you cried.
in the morning,
Ah god,
light all around you
you raised your eyes and looked at me sharp
“I have visions all the time”
people rushing to work
from their nice homes
clutching their coffees
nice homes but renting
anyway
there go the birds
carte blanche
nothing can hold you
dues are paid
they’ll have to find you
where they find you
Mexico City
turning down
a whole lot of blow
too young when your mom
found you
on the bathroom floor
how you told me, so earnest
and I couldn’t sleep for weeks.
Mad and gifted
baring your paintings to heaven
holding the light, the light
drawing me closer, closer
to your chest that scented heaven
good god,
like all of heaven
that’s when I taught you tears
that morning on the bridge
nobody else
knew you cried.
The Metaphysics of Flowers
Imagine this
I leave the lighthouse
empty, not a bird
in sight
you emerge from the rocks
as mist, with no body
or mind
last time you were an owl
crying over my window
I shapeshift into 5 blue
tulips in a big vase
a business I know well
I hear warnings
on the radio
the Atlantic moon
sheds its light on you
because the moon is no judge
but of course
you mistake that
for love
I say: look
news of me won’t come
after this
I am sick and
I’m leaving the coast
to be blessed on the mountain
where I was born
you won’t be able to pull
my roots out of it
but you did not come to listen
you move into tempestuous
sweeps and whorls
dancing like fish
on the hook
you just want to be seen
you know
I can’t dance, at least
not in this form
flowers stay still
but they are very psychic
how they lean to the sun
and know when to die
flowers don’t force life to last
or cry what’s left unsaid.
The Mock Mirage of Astronomical Objects
Twilit rooftop in the class of
young, all-american men clearing
six feet clean, swarthy tans
summer bent still
over their bones
what of America supreme
war and worship I walk
your kingdom’s line with
dog-faced poems running
loose in me
there you stood
fixed vortex on the far
making steady steady
I seen you in three cities
from New York to Wichita
two summers passed us, now
they are all one
you glide amid galaxies
tailing a phantom, telling
you her life
hung that moon huh that
gold hoop in the gu-gutter
face up in the red light
I fold my royal flush
you talk your tongue
out of motion, dead
or asleep cabrón you please
hauling the silver ball
to my feet
swirling it opens
and englobes in bright
glow, swift night goes
psycho, while apples
sweeten in the tree.