— David Hickman
You who are beautiful: I was too.
My red mouth smoked like a waiting grave.
The infinity of resistances binding the infinity
between. Eyes in the dark
glistening like ice cubes.
Outside my window a world of meat beckoned.
The buildings were high. The elevators full.
There were ceramics of children,
and little plastic signs for every eager merchant .
I recall a walk with Mrs M. Her sighs flowing out to meet the water.
How the clouds became buildings, and the treeís mad noises between the cars.
Those ruins had their charm. And there was no one to gainsay
the fabulous that haunted them. The marinated and tender meats
and the dainty sweets we rested on.
So I had a fine shave. Only a little blood trickling from the mouth.
(Iím a vampire he thought,
Then quickly realized that was someone else.)
The double as darkness, hiding as motive.
His cravat and sharkskin a shambles down the
Things added up haphazardly then,
clouds amidships, toppling
clouds, The blue overarching
the summations of its further hues.
The wind whispering: we are here for love.
The grass sighing: we are emeralds and we are alive
as the birds kissed the worms and cried.
Beauty between. Flesh the cornice.