What Colour Is Poetry?

(Reading not aloud)

we are both ^there or not there
embrace nothing

and she yeah she
stuck him good, like he was a
balloon...you shoulda seen
his face pop, like one second
he was in it and the next

soaring high
above the flood.
I see the bedraggled bodies
floating beneath, and think of each:

descartes, hume, kant are
my instruments I play
them well
but women dig guitars

whisper your love beneath the bitter rose
bare beauty as delicate as death
I lust after your _shadow

-- D*S