fault and creature

 
Once I pulled her from the river by her wet fur.
it was in the bleak music of thunder & the broken harmonies
of mourning machines – machines that loved with a bronze grace.

the vicious sound of mohgs (enunciated as Dr. Moog intended)
beat hard on the coiled air, on these rogue nights when strangers
have murdered the pretext of romance & all of sorrow is a river.

perhaps I’ve fallen into the fault of loneliness – fault which is a
hole in the earth. a hole deep & agony, a deluge.

in my grief, I take solace in the silent creatures: the flower that
spreads fragile color & fragrance; the tree that bears fruit, &
gives wood to shape the fire.

until I heard the plaintive blues of a melancholy woman, as her
mahogany guitar made its accord of unspoken poetry. an iron
mountain sets alight candles of the sky; a wolf signals the
silver inferno of moon.

we are creatures, of a lusting desire. the wolf weeps his tears to
a cherished moon, who will never embrace him. the stars burn off
one by one, & the night conceals us in the wind & the wildness
of our sex.

we are untamed passions, naked & shameless
in the savage allegory of love…


(Art: Eric Keller)