bodies copulate       
in the fire and heat         
of the ruins       
boulders 
falling
oblivious 

UNCONDITIONAL

ON THE RUINS OF LOVE . . .

 

vowels for prayer

syllabic speech

milk teeth

sun hits blood

cock rises hard

 


 

i could fall in love with you

this time of night

 

the ferry runs late

and you're glad

 

you'd rather make it

than sleep on the dock

 


 

that damned cowboy

singing on the road again

 

twisting away

with a slow spin

 

we were gonna leave

and never did

 


 

fine white sand

blue fountains and

a faux lagoon

 

salt breeze

rolls cool through

the open glass

 

over the surf

our spirits

collide

 

our bodies ride

hard into

distance

 

and with love

comes the

moon

 


 

fine night

at Fountainbleau

 

with you and

some good weed

 

my portable and

a beach suite

 

solid glass walls

to breakers

 

drinking Bombay

at Warsaw

 


 

your first real boyfriend

after we married

and I went to Colorado

 

after dan one night

and i returned and

took you to California

 

we went to Chicago and

your first jonathan livingston

someone or other

 

and i had

fat-breasted jo

and her boyfriend, mark

 


 

helen

& skip

 

you didn't like

either

 

i loved

both

 

helen

as much as you almost

 

wch is why you shredded

her postcard, a naim june paik

 

a burning heap of televisions

and a speeding dragster

 

stupid to have lost her

and skippy in the clouds

 


 

all families are dysfunctional

in different ways

some fuse nuclear bombs

detonating an over-brilliant witch

who knows two thousand plants

how to camp, chop wood, haul water

cook and feed the animals

but can't stay sane long enough

to remember being happy

what they did you can't undo

for her

 


 

glory holes of Austin

peep shows on Clark & Rush

Times Square at 42nd

the smell of cum and chlorine

in a 25 cent theatre

glorifying

First Amendment

Amerika

 


 

bad snow

too drunk

 

took your

numb carcass

 

carved maps

for the dead

 


 

bad snow

too drunk

 

took your

numb carcass

 

home in a cab

five bucks

 

& kissed

your numb lips

 

hobbled you to the door

& left you inside

 

sleeping

and I

 

went home

on the El

 


 

i walked into the kitchen

and time stood still

 

bodies worrying

the meal together

 

your gaze and mine

locked

 


 

how you hooked

whatever you set

your sights on

 

inspiring

insane acts

of devotion

 

& destruction

 

(the tower

was never

high enough)

 


 

the fire

and sun

 

light breathing

warmth into day

 

you made coffee

and chapatis

 

on a coal stove

and we were happy

 

once

weren't we

 


 

watching K2

rise

 

before the

sun

 

ignites

 

the sky

& peak

 


 

not caring to

not knowing to care to

 

be numb

as it

 

was and ever shall

be

 

whirled

w/o end

 

wo

men

 


 

it is commonly held

men and women speak different tongues

 

children too speak their own

each generation forming its codes

 

each passing year

words disappear from our language

 

and the language of love too

comes to leave us

 

an organic collection of characters

we grow with

 

or without

our speaking

 


 

gracefully lost

the "poems"

I wrote

after the divorce

a cruel joke

the remembered half-dream

of our other past-lives

won't take root

in my "vita nuovo"

 


 

blame

all you want

 

the coal black lump in your heart

leaves a hole in the universe

 

only you can fill

only you

 

the dead

are dead

 

and the future

is yours

 

to enjoy

if you will

 

I will

 


 

how
did i luv him

"in the poem"

the spiritual etch-a-sketched in soul's

"intent"

 


poems are the wave of the future          

in the future everyone will speak poems          

more than words         


 

messy but effective

smashing the ice

making the massif budge

love the rose

as it grows

and spills

perfume

 


for June


 

an eternity of

wolf, bear, eagle

 

ancestors

parents

children

 

they speak when we Listen

they appear when we See

 


 

Burning Fields

monster Navistars

turn twenty rows

at death defying angles

under headlight

the Palouse night

Moscow to Lewiston

rolling hills a patchwork

of tan and darker brown

and growing blackness

 

long outlines of flame

snake through the fields

smoke hangs

large purple plumes

that tower like mountains

towards the stars

 

only fire

sparks the seeds

they say, only burning

germs the bluegrass

 

from the ridgetop

city lights erupt

like sparks

from the burns

 

and the stack at Potlatch

Paper spews

coal black

smoke shadows the moon

where the Clearwater

and Snake converge

in Hell’s

Canyon

 


Sacred Grove of Ancient Cedars

White Buffalo Calf

and Lightning Serpent

 

a clear creek

winding

 

through the grove

of sacred cedars

 

ancient pilgrimage

of Shoshone

 

gathering bark

and making love

 

among the ferns

hidden from the trail

 

half-clothed

hot and dirty

 

old cedar

bridges the creek

 

to ancient grove’s

holy heights

 

wet moss and leaves

massive roots and stumps

 

when White Buffalo Cow left

Lightning Serpent

 

the sky turned electric

and he sought refuge

 

in the cedars and their elk

clattering on the rocks

 

in the night

 


 

Call Home

you want me to tell you

what this feels like

you want to know

how I am

“how are you really?”

but you know

I don’t know

 

I haven’t been alive

I don’t eat I hardly breathe

I drink and drink

my heart barely beating

in a pool of blood and feces

 

you tried to mend me

once, patiently

at first and

then in a rush

and you did

too fast . . .

without your hands

to hold me together

I fall further

and harder

than before

 

more sinew

more bone

more glue

 

but without

your hands

I leak

 


 

Mica

when I returned

our skies collided

orange and red

purple clouds circled

and then dark

overtook the night

lightning crashed

where we had stood

electricity sizzled

in the air

 


 

Inside

it was hard to know

where we were

with each other

starting that last dance

I thought I should leave

I didn’t belong there yet

 


 

Untitled

we made the flowers

bloom

we made the seasons

change

once

 

fill the jug

batteries for the lamp

books, baskets for India

Feather lies still

at the open door

but her nose

twitches north

 

we came from separate worlds,

our being, and lack of being,

together; two realms,

not in contradiction,

overlapping

 

how much of you

I don’t and will never know

how could I undertand

your past anymore

than my own

or our future

 

but I will always

understand

your hands

 


 

Dreamcatcher

what were you dreaming

when you wove your web

sinews sparkling

with jewels of dew

once we enmeshed

in your golden strands

you blinked

I got loose

and flew

 


 

Untitled

you took the talismans

you needed

and left me bones

beads, feathers and sinew

tanned hides of deer and elk

some dark red felt

 

I wish I could have loved you

perfectly and you could trust

my fractured heart

more than your own

to be true

 


 

Untitled

and as I opened

to absorb

you withdrew

 


 

Aftershocks

the slightest motion

sets off series of memories

each move starting new waves

moving more through the infinite

space and energy

we recognize

as time and event

 

when did you,

if you ever did,

know that all I want

to do

is forget

 

when all you want to do

is forget

all you want to do

is die

and lose all those memories

we keep needing to make

 

there is no denying

the existence of things

any more than the infinite

 

we are temporary news

burning ourselves

into the black sun

 

all is change

 


 

Trees

together we were strong

not stronger than ourselves

not strong enough

 


 

Beach

we brought the skies together

we walked on the sand and you sat

on a large log

to tremble

 

to pass through the barrier

I pursued you through and

you passed beyond

 

where was it you said

I don’t remember anything

 


 

Lewiston

when I was your girl

and you were my boy

we were the happiest people alive

 

we played roles

defined by our souls

 

but when people

defy and define

our souls

they deform

our roles

to meet

their perceptions

 


 

Wet Moon

whose tears salt the beach grass

whose fears tremble in the night

whose eyes shatter in the wind

whose mind opens to the sky

 


 

Scooter

we rode this ride

in a brighter light

when days were long

and the nights were wild

now I ride this road

on shorter days

when the nights are cold

and alone

 


 

Forever

 

the dead fuck

islands swim

 

skies collapse

without reason

 

pure

complete

 

unconditional

 

 


Copyright 1995 by Richard Bodien, Seattle, Washington.
Copyright 1998 by Richard Bodien, Seattle, Washington.

Updated January 08, 1999