Sunday, January 06, 2008

Ton Éclat Fatal et Pur

Smell of perfume
mingled with smoke,
add sweat
and somnolence,
you've attained
the mise en scène

an addicted chanteuse
chokes in a lit corner
where dust never collects

it doesn't merit
terza rima

rivers of vomit capsize
wasted craft,
a discerning God's
tidal edict.

the bass line drones

we rest in
her reflection

we want malady
on the cusp
of martyrdom

Never sing such darkness.
We redact the dream
and blunt beauty's knife
to dullness.

waves break over shut eyes.
please, don't ask us to think

welcome the fair sun
into sweet slumber,
fetal-ly curled up
on dew licked hills

did your breath
cut beauty's sharpness
into our lungs?

we cried when
light seized us
from the warmth
of dark water

we can't bear
this brightness.

give us novelties,

dance is a test and
we can't stomach ideals.

Beauty, redeem hearts
born broken.

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