Tuesday, September 28, 2010

so you like to be
a watcher do you
think that its polite
to stand between the lampposts
in the garden
just watching
through the window?

don't you have your
own violence to tend
to sow and to gouge hollow
like a ruby red
grapefruit in the morning?

because I have my own
young shoots of untenable
madness and they'll reach
for you too
what you think is an embrace
is not an embrace

your orchid leers at me
with its back crooked
from all its vigilance
as an envoy to your
declaration of watching

when the eyes turn
like lovelamps why is it
that we can't look away?
those mossy green watchers
have a black center
with the density of
a thousand dead stars

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