Friday, March 19, 2010

Little Bit Goes A Long Way
of D.B.A.

I want to write erotic about you

I injure me
eye teeth and I, in mortal combat
in conflict, as we often are

you and I in deep agreement
allowed photographs to look at

as close up as I can make them
or get them

what is it about her mouth
about when she speaks, that’s odd,
that’s awkward, that’s not pretty
that draws attention to itself

I have a similar flaw, as does
my nephew, Clay

mouth and teeth, tongue and lips
unfit relationship

parts which do not fit together
go together well

not like a well designed, well fashioned,
well running machine, bite just right

like some bodies, some persons
make strides so just right
however fast they go or went or came

I could have been a politician
or a reporter on TV
if when I spoke, I looked pretty

I could have been an actor
on a movie screen, out front and loving it
and earning because of it

I must instead cling to the background,
the side lines

except when I am outfitted in poetry
in verse, mask made of words
and nothing more

ready when I am attired in words alone
she is similarly naked, similarly armed
and similarly clothed

mike in her grip,
able to give who is listening the fits

unable to help but applaud approval
her art as relevant as this
as ticklish as she is delicious

far away from home and from her
restaurant of women, of waitresses
in white blouses, in red vests

with some conflict to settle
focused upon something or other, unjust
which transpired recently

“She can’t get you one way
“she’d get you anuder
“in I tell y’all she vindictive
“get over it!”

nice among them though
as if I belonged
they brush against me
when they go by
I stand among them

they talk with as much passion
as I write

do they know that I am,
like water, in ink,
reflecting their shadows

I am her shadow and she is mine
this girl on my mind,
on my mind all the time

I’m in pain also
what remains after pleasure
an erection she inspired

rock hard, stiff cock, pain follows
rest my palm flat upon it
one and then another

ache in two legs
down to the ground I stand on

I was waiting for rice
writing still after it has/I have
been served

I have rice to eat with chopsticks
after which, an enjoyable walk home

cornflakes to stop to purchase
I’ve been without any for too long

my honey with me here and there
and now and then

I live without gap between us
in some realm,
on one level or another

it is art which connects us
permits us connection
when all other ties fail

at times without mercy
I'd strip her clothes off and fuck her

even if it is a sheet in my notebook
which we together wet, soil,
spoil with enjoyment

I take her as swiftly
as a hawk sweeping down,
swooping down upon rabbit,
across grass, in the open, fleeing

and claws open and close
and rabbit and hawk in flight
and good night rabbit

though the moment before
it was high noon,

hawk with its rabbit
alight upon the moon
to have lunch

girl, Dee, you should see
the gulls in the sky

NCL leaving the harbor backwards
two lengthy strands of flowers,
yellow and pink, upon its front and side

pilot to clear the way, to show the way
and gulls, hundreds and hundreds of them
fly up, darken the air
what lovely looking scavengers sea gulls are

would you make love to her, wife-to-be asked me
that couldn’t happen, I responded emphatically
and repeated it emphatically

on my own, alone, I reflect again
upon such a possibility

my heart constricts for an instant,
I can hardly breathe to think of it,
to imagine it

enough to be getting to know her better
as the globe goes round,
as the round earth spins
as love leads us on

into what words, here beside the road
by P.I. bridge, where I’ve stopped
to connect through this pen and a page
would I translate, I love you

what is not words is what I wish to convey
to transmit

almost as foolish to be stopping here
as that man and his horse
on a snowy evening, in Frost’s poem

with miles to go before he could sleep

wanted to stop here though
with traffic flowing by, going east
along Bay St. or over the bridge

when gripped by uncontainable feelings
you know what results

though you’re not a boy so you might not

what happens in and to a girl’s anatomy
when overcome by emotions
by strong feelings

who better able to,
with thoughts alone,
produce such a sky scraper

heaven comes near, up against it
up against you as if you were here
were near

oh the little bit of effort
with which you produce
such large amounts,
such extreme reactions

how condensed you must be
that such a tiny little bit
goes such a long long way

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 12 noon and
7:25 p.m. on Saturday,
March 13, 2010


Anonymous D.A. said...

Short-sweet-sufficient. I love the reference to Frost. I also felt with your visual imagery that I was with you walking, waiting, wishing.

Saturday, March 20, 2010 3:55:00 PM  

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