7th
one of the poems from tonight:
PHILLIP WHALEN IN MY LIVING ROOM LAST NIGHT
you who do
collapse in a dream, with no bucks
no benjamins
.
the face plucked out
you make me frolic in my blood
.
i don’t know what
to call this thing i’m about to declaim
.
it hath the gift of healing
ready to cook my goat-head with the shoulder bone
she stuck it where she liked —
.
are you swifter shoot? your tits
i Loved
so much
.
i would not leave my vow, streaked
red with adonis
.
now i conclude my whatdoyoucallit
let him sing in the cave
my Lady of four months
once he has it memorized
piles up my sweetbitters
on a surface of cunt-muscles,
unzipping
kai moirai’ adonin
(middle of the day)
———————-
sara m. larsen
may 6, 2008
**w/ some language from raimbaut d’orange, ezra pound, charles olson, dodie bellamy
