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Sun, genitals, death
all stare at us
force our eyeballs with invisible wire
to hurt a little
take the sun,
the world's full of apparition
visions out of control
yet this light
in the wind breath-tree above you,
the brightly white stone,
the drifting East,
last fading glow
or genitals,
we try not to look but we do
the pillow-line where heads once were,
the subtle lesions of desire,
each moment a tiny sting,
revisiting something that is not-
mossy tracks lead to shade and damp,
the scrape of stubble on path
it is always there-
the stone in my chest at the river's bottom,
your tangle of dark hair, red stripe of labia,
smell, nothing but memory, the origin of colour.
yet, death, death is but the end of each day's cloud,
your sleep, darkness made beautiful,
the cold flood of what was,
evening's snip, or moonlight in a secluded wood,
one more tomorrow
against the backdrop of everyday objects
this other voice in the night,
this seeing and being seen,
pulling at my eye-sockets
seeking out complete shapes, somebody else's control
Clausius
"Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of 80 and gradually approach 18."
Mark Twain
But we always age
So imagine the universe as a casino,
Some perpetual motion machine
A gigantic engine puffing comets,
With planets spinning forever like wheels
Making a profit so long as we lose
And we always lose,
Our eyes forced shut
in the predictability of numbers. . . .
And we as motors
I know that rods and pistons produce energy,
That friction converts motion to heat
But I remember having entered you
The crescent of my cock
And your clitoris pointed like some wild asterisk
Ê
Imagine the sun turning charcoal
Because the force of the cosmos is constant,
Your eyes, some formula never explained
Never changing, galaxies as lukewarm breath,
Yet your hair, like question marks upon the pillow,
Lies separate at edges of dream . . . .
We always age
While the cosmic casino keeps winning
And we always decay
While stars cluster to their final resting place.
Paul Kloppenborg works as a librarian in Melbourne, Australia. He is widely published in both print and electronic journals. His first anthology (along with 6 other international poets) was published by Two Dog Press in 1998. A second anthology was published by Funky Dog Press, Detroit in 1999. Paul's first chapbook "Poetic Confectionery " (2002) is available from the Canadian publisher CNV. He is Co-ListServ Administrator of The Muse. October 2005.
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