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Thursday, August 26, 2010

Poem for Kristina Louise

To Kristina Louise Tr____y
Minneapolis, Minnesota
I'll make a poem to you on my laptop . . .
out 'o all letters in your name . .
.A, E, I, K, L, M, N, O, P, R, S, T, U, Y.

So your name spells mine . . .
I really am a potter, a painter, my name is Mark
I'll not tell Aesop's tale to amuse you,
 . . or animals, asses on an ark. . .

Nor pirates or players or Pan's pipes,
Or a serpent . . or an apple,
Or Mars, Saturn, Moon, astral suns, 'ere starlit planets soar,
    or a union o' opposites,
I'll simply say it - I look’t at your port.
Your sensuous eyes. . . your nose, your ears, your ankles, . .
. . . your knees,
In all, I see a million symmetries.
I kno' you not at all
Nor you me,
So you are my inspiration as a Muse to poetry.

An' see you on lonely spots o' yore,
A passport to your European roots
I'll take you to Paris's opera, Italy, Spain, Europe's pretty estates.

To Israel. . . 'ere Semites rule,
To Pakistan's Oriental ruins,
'Ere in Eastern Turkey amnesia appears.
As rosy poppies milk makes opium.

Or an Alaskan mansion, a moose's antlers rear,
. . . or Maine's mute mists, mountains near a sea.
‘Ere salmon leap, . . . an autumn set, some pumpkin pie 'n tea.

You’ll pray at an alpine altar - mysteries to keep Eros near,
I'll play a piano sonata in a minor key
Or a Roman ruin . . nuns, priests,
Saint Peter's in Italy.

Or to a limestone manor paint' pink,
at nine I rise to spill my poet's ink . . 
An eruption o' eats, . .. a Latin menu.
Salami . . . pesto, . . panini, . . tiramisu,
Parmesan, pepperoni. . . tortellini. . .
‘Tis a trip you an' I are on . . .
. . . amaretto, an' spumoni.

Matisse? Manet? Monet? Pissarro?
An artists installation, limestone, plaster, papers paints . . .
I'll pepper you in insane kisses . . . as Parisian royalty,
. . . or plain rosemary an' snails . . eels. . . oysters on a plate
omelets, pastries.

'Tis not an international liaison,
Or a multinational ploy, I make my plays on,
'Tis to you my emotion takes . .
So my art to initiate.
Mortal Muse, your portraits portray simple positions, 
Poses speak to ritual sins.

I'll take a primal risk
‘N apply to your lips a kiss
You say stop! You're rite!
No no! 'tis not polite
To lose you - insanity

Else I'll stay to poetry.
Eternal purity
Emotions enormity!

Your skinny sister sits, an' sleeps,
Your aunt seems a million miles alone
No more kin in your name. . .
So alone. . . alas you're so alone.

So to NY you must my paramour
Sit in lotus postures, utter mantras . . .
Sail to me to learn my tantras.

Your eyes erase, eliminate emotion . . .
Yet passions simmer porous potions . . .
Eros is a potent poison,
'Ere your eyes seem to moisten . .

A onetime union promises, I take your panties . . .
. . . in pleasure, I see your eyes, your pupils pool,
. . . your uterus, menses, your pussy moan . . .

As I speak poetry to your loins,
. . . to you my primal pollen runs.


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