Chamber Music
You say thalamos, I say thalamus
and hypostasis, I fancy, is invention
as the mother of need. For everything a body
and in our version of Willie Pete
few babies make it out of nativity complete.
To seduce you, reduce you to myself, corrode
myself at the anode for you, tremors
for holy water, Hagar’s hands and feet,
I pant and plead “Gather,
gather,” in a dead language.
The dead split in two: one camp
house-warm their graves with the living’s
carnation and chrysanthemum while in the other
children hide and seek in ice cream coolers
of vendors turned morticians.
To wait out burial
the body rusts the neighboring soul.
Or sits in the needle’s eye,
not chasm but chiasm that holds off
incoming thread and helps another through.
I’m staying right here. You go
look for horses that bait the initiate
who neglects the peace
forged between beasts. I’m staying right here
with all I have on loan
as tone flickers
its penultimate oxygen pair. You go
be the beginning.
It was already the beginning
when love was one of its traits.
Echo
One right move
no place to go
we goat through tombs
eviscerated of their residents
It was lovely
to see you defeated after dinner
with splanchnic blood
shunted from your brain’s hollering terrain
lovely the wet ashes
of your voice the evagination
of palm-sized cantaloupe
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of a year ago has changed
the body has changed
our guest
that hosts us
Maqam of Palm Trees
for Rahim El hajj
His amphibian torso
to leg ratio a frog’s
or imitation (fiddler) crab
soluble salty rubber of two waters
at the confluence of steady eddy synapse
in a museum’s dark room
his triceps’ fat pressed to hers
she in her movement
he in his stillness
what the moving know about stillness
the still don’t know…She asks
Are you a Sufi?
Is all my longing
born equal to your ears
the devil’s a devoted angel
with personality disorder
or what will we do tonight? He says
I’ll make us coffee and tea
we’ll play chutes and ladders
and in the morning
we’ll feed a bale of turtles
and a bevy of swans
our bagels on a deck
settled in lake-drought mud
where I was born…She says
Then maybe a heron will join
and leave us a calamus
so big it can wound