Imported Poems

They fall from me:
the orange peels,
the low blood sugar.

They fall from me:
my asp-like fears,
my terror of
your love.

It falls from me daily:
my state
of Grace. Yet

I awaken every
day, as tall as
the morning before.

And wonder that
we are lifted,
the sun and I,
and how night prepares us for the day.

it's raining
he sits by the window.
my hostess skills are rusty so i
take extra time selecting the perfect strands of wakame, stirring
them into the broth just so.
i hold the lacquered bowl he bought for me
reverently
i hold our love reverently
i drop in cubes of tofu, as if they were brush work.
he'd like to help but i've told
him no so he sits with
his black manx, scratches him behind the
ears, so quiet ...

aphrodite
flows by,
joining with the mess
of the sidewalk.

and though she is
stunning like
unborn music, her
contempt/need/
sneers of passion remind
me of the
eventual trashing
of porcelain and
i crave the honest
laughter of a
baby with
trisomy 21
an iq of 40.

i sit on the bed, peep over his huge trapezius and deltoideus
muskels
peep into

he's looking at two teddy bears on my dresser
-one surprised, three claws on each paw raised up
who are you, sir
the little one pensive, snuggled near
green forests stamped on its belly-
doesn't know i'm here on the bed sipping
his every move
he touches my three little granite mushrooms
great-gramma got them in korea
...

coffee married itself
to mocha slipped
itself inside my skin
carressed my back
gave birth to
lloyds of london
and more families
in columbia kenya
tanzania
this planet
than i could ever hope to
count
could ever hope to dream
of the day when
it first was brewed
like lightning from the sky
who first smelled it
burnt and who?
offered it first to you
...