Blemished
The octave of us is an avenue
of blackbirds with marbolized wings
As the blacksnake licks the bobcat
in a herculean daze
Your impotent homeland
spread the last deep sea of freckles on your icey, olive face.
Your blemished hands belong on you like
Auburn liqueur on pale blue tablecloths.
I swim in the black of your eye until it liquifies like
Blues in autumn.
We talk like friends of jewel and berry bandits
Erasing halls of bored handwriting
Smoke The Light
Walk with me
Endure in the drift of
Ocean queens
Moulding rock,
Coating cities.
From the trumpet,
A mosaic volume scourges.
Curling covered flesh,
Flooding grim sculptures.
Gambling with the cypress
of frozen marrow and frontal lush
Where luscious poison stalks,
The elbow of life tackles
Barred dreams.
Envoys twitch in panic and
Smoke the light while
Loud, cyclical instruements
Rapture like magnetic fury.
Venus
Hours of leaky meteors
Hound the oceanic part of my mind
that sinks for snowy-white soldiers
Back from horrendous scandals-
Nights with sharp-toothed jaguars
in their pillows.
The nearest saxophone miles away.
You live there like a
black dollar rogue
Lurking In
That part of me that is Venus
Rocking metro phases
through the thoughts
I never figured were pliable.
Trojan Man
Last night I was touched
by an aged, black-eyed
Trojan from the back woods.
He made me fall like a bold faced
Ballet dancer with unclear eyes.
We lit through
a sensuous, agonizing fever-
With the optimal balance
of the Big Dipper.
He broke the nauseating script,
Waking my neglected comedy
with October secrets.
Combing through the morning
bonfire with tribal concord.
Wind-chill bit at his semen.
Through the breathy encore
I accepted his release
Knowing the cold injection
would rapture me,
Swelling my prolific doubt
In Need Of A Paradigm
A pinkish corona moves
like syrup
over the barren anchorage
Bathing the seemingly demotic shore
of swindlers, nomads and scammers
focused on poker.
Debonair with their trimmed scalps.
I am a hot-blooded apparition
bawling for home
My neckline swells like a starving Vulture gawking shellfish from high up.
Separated by an outbreak of earthquakes.
In a night gown of seal'skin,
The fuchsia is washed out of my bones and the Blood scatters to my organs-operative
but warped.
Paradigms live in some waterless dam I found once. Over passing the firestorm
in an air drop.
Toughened but phobic- I overlap the pandora
Diving into a scarlet waterway with ostriches, walnuts and Sea borne leaves,
necklaces of wall'flowers.
I am the water as it falls on fire dogs
The roof of my mouth melts me into a
Vocal self-duel.
The smokey fragrance of decisions overlaps you Gathering my earthly seeds
and
Facing me with the finesse of a
Child you ruined.
Cameo
Buttermilk injections until
trama caffeinates
Baby's immanent sweetness
Reidentified us with a
bull-dog bruteness and
Bullet proof canals.
Cynically, our decomposers keep
Zinc in our eyes
Until the Vulcans haul in
Sucking Saffron from the hemisphere.
Eavesdropping for a Calypso Cameo
to embroider gilts in the bitterness
with harmonic, fresh-water to harpoon
on ghetto flowers.
Minerals
Rays from his barren eyes
Collect the cranberry air.
Rain'fall carries the temper
of comets to the crib
Consoled by the concord of thymes,
minerals and misty plums,
His blood is baptized
with the cocoa and
toffee climate.
Prancing through the
crooked underground,
His roots condemn
the pressure.
Thoughts of solemn drifts
Time in laps
of waves and sun-down
His dramatic, purple soul
lives in the sands of
wooden music and butterfly leaves.
Taken back
Not there but all of this here
Balances itself like landing tornados.
Not For Me
You moved in
Fancier than mauve humidity
over newborn rain
Making me gamekeeper
of your head's dramatic fued.
I'm in your head telling you
what you are.
You're a senile trouble maker
With the ego
of a fattening weaverbird,
Vexed by tunelessness
A nerveless watchman
with martial eyes,
A cuffed jawbone, and honeyed tongue-
Ejaculator of hyper-speech,
Running with an element far beyond you
will make you trip in misery.
Suit yourself.
I'll be the devious strangler
of your exotic gala.
It will do you good.
I always am a howling crow.
I rip people apart.
They love me for it
as they transform in
an elliptical hour-glass
with a burnt, blackening laugh.
Once your laugh is fixed,
You'll attempt to refill Me
with the woodwinds
of strawberry rock
Then you'll see that it's a music
I invented and only I understand.
You'll leave denaturalized
with parts of my strength
Hating me with my strength
for the gluey tears
And you will be bored
without my mysticism,
As you missle toward the muggy
buoy of music
and find I'm the
key-note of the musical,
The high-pitched anthem eclipsing
all sides of the world
In Erasure
But you'll get by.
My Opal Eye
The sky is lynched with velvet
Thawing in a mink overcast
Taunted by this Jittery globe
I carry the genes of
gold-filled ponies.
Hooked on oscillating days.
The physique of a giraffe.
Too high.
Origins are overlooked.
An empress of frantic magnets
Brings a pale garden of glaciers
Within the weight of my opal eye,
In a vale of orchads,
Illicit greed outflows
from furious bone
I revise the palace.
Devouring the gravel
The nutshell becomes a morsel,
An unpenetrable oddity.
Piano
My life is half-ripe.
A still bitterness in my eyes
Too concious if I fake a laugh.
Driving on lit highway lanes with
A heavy bag of love letters
full of confessions to read again.
Picnicing with the burdens of before-
Clinging to a polishing wind
Fastened but frail
I'm Crazily hounded by love's royalties- Hiding in Rumors and the flooden
dunes
I let men put me through.
Now I'm so addicted to beginnings that I stretch them on too far
and keep looking for the next whirl
All screwed up about which version of
love I've felt is the right feeling but still Sick and ready to play again.
I play you sedately as you slip
on my over-spiced laugh
like you're not Vulnerable to all
this freakish world's ecstacy.
Believe I'm screaming.
I don't look at calendars
Tv. Never. Dressed in defenses.
I haven't worn a watch in years
this huge part of me is bent-Irrational Guys are always telling me that
With every stroking of your freakish Talks Quarells and kinks stoop over
me
Unfastening my dinosaurish kisses.
The feelings have all been there
in the beginnings but wasn't it all
just about timing.
Night pulls down it's Sandalwood skies on me I sleep into night to avoid
This Yawning land.
I still don't want one
Dimensional minds
At least I've learned that much.
I'don't watch today as
Sage and crimson casually pour
from my Glory-full chin.
My stomach Sings loud operas of that
loud, squirmy jive we live
when we're in love.
The greenness of the piano warms me with the brilliant strength of
Tough November leaves.
I can't play the notes
though I feel I should.
BEHIND MY DOOR
I know it's you
Behind my door
Standing like Cairo
with a lean black panther
shadow.
You got in your car
coming for me no matter how
far you had to go.
Copper rain swallowing your
brain cells like it did when
I first kissed you in a new place
I can't remember
Only that it was new
and I've never gone back.
Your starving white mask is
waiting for the lining of my face
to enhance the dullness of your earth
Don't you feel ridiculous for being here? Don't you know that the
Colors are under the lining now?
I know if I let him in
I'll be able to deduct passion again.
My skeletal tact has obliterated me.
I know he can touch me like he's
slept next to me for fifty years.
I can pretend I'm not home.
The stakes follow me,
laughing vigorously.
I open the door and look
but I don't let him in.
The horrible feeling is back.
I'm ejected from my own endurance.
Tempted and assaulted by
the absence of worry in his face.
He smiles at me like
He was on the plane
When I flew to other countries
for the opening nights of operas
Sitting inside me
and underneath my companions hand
as he held it
Forbidding the tightness of certainty.
As I sat cross-legged in front of
royal pianos in candle-lit rooms
He was the flightiness of the melody,
A rowdy young boy who knew
he had something so feverish and
good that he'd never tell
anyone too much about it.
Men have come to me
with their circuses of wealth
and dressed up words.
I've slept on coastal beaches,
Waking to fruit and wine
as you were in Australia and China
kissing pretty girls with a force
way less than the one
that you kiss me with, right?
Was I really the purest branch
of emotion in you?
You were gone this whole time-
Mutilating me with the anchor
of your absense.
Why are you sure that it was the thread of
One kiss you sewed up in me
that kept you with me all this time-
Invigorating the corners of my Xanadu smile
I let you in,
Craving to mimic the sly frown
used on me by an old Adversary.
So I can seem unwilling.
I'm shamefully chilled just by your luxury
- The taste of French wine and
cigarettes on your tongue
Your ivory colored shirt
showing part of your scented chest.
I'm exposed. That makes me erratic.
You ship dazzling dancers into my soul
crowding me with all the times
I let you interfere.
I've worn this subdued look once
on tarnished streets.
I know I'm gonna let you do it again.
Burnish my life with that tough harmony
That no one else could ever match.
Then you'll get back in your junky car
and take the hazy brick streets back
to your world of inaccurate senses
and sleepy television afternoons.
You know you've settled. You idiot
How could you be okay with that?
Go right ahead and leave me stuck
in the shapelessly
long way that I love you.
And finish suffocating for it
until you're dead.
Leaving Love For My Dreams
Our ocean is flushed with
your face tantrums
Operatic Waves
Jet down my throat
I couldn't be with you.
Timely I swam
into the moon's inclination
with muted wisdom
Empires of darkened rooms
with low records on
my back.
Sun racked my skin into topaz
For a place
Fresh as an infants cry.
Merging purple colors of
fragrant apple lily's elope.
Sagging pines drip
with forest snow-
Undoing this stained soul
Tombing a smile with
snowflakes on its'tongue,
Perking these
Earth-drowned lashes.
I'd have swam through ice water.
To get the pageantry
of fame to
canvass my blacker wounds.
Bodiless, I flew to the drumbeats
Tucked under leafy roofs
Ivies grew over your face
In my back thoughts
But your fleshless smile
remained alert.
Dodging to my well-being
I've only been alive so far
Waiting
For these turnings.
I had to have this so
Don't call my name
with the hailing saddness
of the Viola.
I can live this fine
As long as I have your smile
to clothe me when it
Simmers up this skeletoned arc.
Need
No girl can undress your tale like me.
My estrogen drives into those
Day-dark Egyption eyes-
Gyrating you in like festivals of laughter.
There is some scholarly umbrella around you
But you talk in grammar school analogies- Cornered in my life like rusty
chimes
or a hole in the couch that I cover up
and won't throw away.
You're worn down-
Living on vitamins and excuses.
I want to do something for you
When you look at me like a dying doctor.
But what can I do except suggest
better excuses and peel off more of your skin.
Maybe I'll let you talk
Down to me if it
Jams you up like a teething earthquake.
I know the music stops when I leave
Your visions frying loose and drunk
As your lips turn bitterly into lemon shreads
And I'm like a book mark to you-
A toasty forefront to underground wizards.
Flinging you into
Sermons of Global Vigils-
Luminescent night-warmers.
And you feel primal.
Would it stop you if you knew
I'm using you like salt in a Martini
while the prickly joke stabs
Bravo into my face.
I talk down to you really but I listen
to the putrid smell of your orgasms,
Animating your pitiable outcome.
You think I'm the type of girl that listens. I've always crept up on flashy
guys like you,
Making you adore women through me
Begging you not to love me.
I'm disgusted with the miserable emergencies that induce you to me.
Even more for your wanting to need something that you don't need.
When the me in you wears you down
you'll be one of the few men who know respect. But you'll still be the caboose
Dragged by juicy women
into the faint,
Molecular destiny
of your impotency.
Moons In My Head
A duel of gingerbread voices
Crams up my sleep.
Faces powdered red
Dictating dimples
Blur the rough
Coral reefs
Where the water-filled
Skulls of Jericho
Scrabble like a port of
Grated tongues cleaving
Sunken oysters.
What is the moon doing
beyond those wintry places
Jaunting the center of the
Hairy, brassy lit sky
Luxuriating in
like a face of warm bread
Thickening late night rides
I left winter behind
Folded up those I loved into a
Map of white nights
Building claw marks up the air.
Hiking upright
Before the lustrous
bullets you stand behind.
What has manipulated you?
Have you been unsinkably free and
Angellic without a passable heart.
The most victorious thing alive.
Treasured from a distance
Immune and deafened from negligence.
Let me get there
to loot the light and
Weasel it into my eyes.
Parching this unchannelable distress.
Swithering
Not even the Judo-thrill of your penis
Dissolves this sexual amnesia
Untied and tense in a scarf of dread,
Cruel-headed.
Killed by the craving faces of women
As you exploited and
Roared on them.
How much more do you grant me?
Which of your serpents did I get
Or did I make them myself?
I want to assault them,
learn them-
Train them,
Just to predict a rage.
I won't let you scream me.
Raw dirt Erodes on me
Unsaturated, like Garden worm skin
Isolated under Mangrove trees.
Sucking your violent sensations
Into my limp stomach,
Inhabiting masculinity,
Cranking the hoodlum into my emptiness.
What ferocity outweighs my Chimera mechanisms? Is it that scream inside
me
Ravished by cowardness,
Like the print of Dead Sea Scrolls?
Is that scream a soul-span of chills
That paints Paris greens in Vienna?
The Soy of China's lakes,
The Soy of it all-
Danish pastries, Russian dressing,
Arctic Autums sliding
Breast-down frozen slopes of lake?
Orgasmically circular-
A Milano carousel
Circulating catalystic blood for
A mangled world of lies.
Alison Eir Jenks
is 23 years old. She graduated from Columbia
College in Chicago in 1995 with a B.A. in Creative Writing. Her first collection
of poems, The Liquid In Love, was published when she was 21 by Aegina Press
in Huntington, West Virginia.
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