PICTURES OF PEOPLE MAKING LOVE
I was looking at some pictures
Of people making love and I wondered
Who they were this morning,
If they had walked along the cliff
Edge near the beach to watch the morning
Ease itself across the water? Did
They smell the seaweed? Did they
Listen to the wave sounds and the
Fog horns unanswered song as they talked
So beautifully you’d think the
Walls of heaven were being described,
Just by the way they were talking
To each other? Was it the sea
That made them remove their
Clothing and wander into each
Other, wonder into each other
‘Caravans spilling out of their thighs’
And the bones singing of the lovely
Flesh touching like this so
That they wanted to keep some part
In pictures and they did they had
Their talk and were as leaves
And were as faith is so we are told,
So they could return to these images
Wondering who they were then and what
Happened and why did it all look
Like this and who else would see
Them here and float away on the
Images watching the sunlight on
The flesh, the bells of their bodies
Making that sound full of hurrah
And the waves coming back into focus
After a long time? The apple tree
Still in the background, the wonder
Piling up like forests against the sea.
Where is paradise now with its glory,
Its truth, the flames that are their
Flesh, the nobility that lives above
And shines incomparably on all human beings?
They banded a naked girl
Riding a beautiful star specked
Horse with the echo of youth
So they might track her
Should she ever return.
Somewhere out there silence
Can be learned as if it were
An alien language or a card game.
See those spinning lights?
They are the ones I spoke of
In my letter. Yes, they are
The children of of the deepest
Purest thing we could ever imagine,
But we could not realize them
Happening to us.
Now I don’t know about the rest
Of you but I’m thinking none of this
Is done in vain. This is the world,
Is it not? “We are surrounded by
Enchantments.” Who can judge
Any of this? Moonlight? Lions?
We came here because we must
Come here. We were told this is
The place. Where will love
Go better? Where will anything
Be as innocent as this ever again?
I press my face into her hair
And breathe. They will come
For us soon enough. Don’t
Even think of running. Just
Look at that horse. Unbelievable!
The lovely girl, naked. Her beautiful
Back. Look how we understand this.
So many voices. A chorus
Speaking together. There is
Grace in the way the words
Form here. We have no idea
What is being said. But there
It is, pure and outlandish
As late June with its
Dreams of water and Summer
Love caught in its loins.
We walk along the sidewalks
On the edges of the park.
The fireflies are just starting
To be seen so we sit and wait
For the dark to consume everything.
I am in love with you, you
The one reading this. I want to
Take you in my arms and touch
You intimately, make love with you
With great ceremony and unbridled lust,
To be a chorus within you, not
Singing at all, but speaking so we
May hear in our core, abandoning gender,
Fine and carnal, pleading another kind
Of Summer, another mouth upon yours
Where speech stops attending us
Where all becomes sensation,
Steam rising from the ocean surface
Even before dawn is aware of it.