Saturday, April 2, 2011

On the darkside of a Martian beach scene

You see them dancing in the waves
naked beneath their tattoos
out of the sea
ascending the steps of the submerged palace
their lips the color of wet sand
slashed with X’s
              “Do you know at the offering of which libation
              the waters become endowed with a human voice
              and rise and speak?”
I guess they were playing with needles
              & watching John Wayne movies
dubbed in Spanish
                              as I would beg indulgence
                              if only to aggregate an equivalent
                                                somewhere between Santa
                                                Cruz & Sri Lanka
so that entire summer trimming the blue from my eyes
downwind scraps of silver light edged in smog
& later (mas tarde) a single cold diamond flame
& I realized
              I hadn’t even been born yet