ROULETTE

I finger your empty chamber

put you to my lips

BANG

ALL DECISIONS OF THE COMMITTEE SHALL BE FINAL

Your hand is your destiny,

slight or calloused.

So, whether you be an artist

or you be a thief,

no matter where your heart is,

you’ll come to grief.

There’s a Hanging Committee

for the gallows,

and one for the gallery.

ISES MAY BE ISN’TS

It’s rape, not sex, unless it is

reciprocal, enjoyable,

spontaneous, and synchronous.

Sabers and foils, not visors, veils —

What we may get’s not what we want.

When we need sails we may have gales.

Land that’s fragrant’s also vacant.

No interval is eternal.

All that’s secret is not sacred.

THE DANCE: NANCY

I said I wouldn’t dance with you;

Your hair’s too blond, your eyes too blue.

A loaded gun and fully cocked,

dynamite cap set to go off.

I swore I wouldn’t dance with you.

She’s too proud of humility.

Her giant modesty towers from her knees.

She’s so proud of humility, the giant Modesty towers from the knees.

Even us healthy ones she treats like disease.

I said I wouldn’t dance with you.

Your arms, I knew, would hold like glue

No neon ever hijacked us,

I refused to be target practice

I knew I’d never dance with you.

Oversharp in her ignorance, she’s

indisputably a genius between the knees.

Oversharp in her ignorance, undeniably she’s a genius between her knees.

The peacock preens, pretending that no one sees.

I said I wouldn’t dance with you:

The night’s too young, too bright’s the view.

But that bandit moon lit the fuse,

and insurgent night made the news,

though I’d said I’d never dance with you.

dancing in the moon

light with Nancy and kissing her good –

Night

comes quickly this time of year

and icily as well: the wind

bites nicely and to the quick –

oh these thoughts! are dancing nicely

through the wind kissing this memory

somehow – I can hear the

memory embers

hissing in the wind (is sharp

this time of year) like java in the night

comes dark and sharp and bitter.

spring it was or was it fall? (no matter)

(no matter at all the season) the reason

I recall at all is Nancy her name

whispers in the moon light, or

is it the night

wind that’s light

or was it the fall –

– no matter –

it was time and she was mine and we were

hours until the dawn (comes quickly, this time)

and I must go on:

I wanted to go on, to bound

fast as the hound Wind

and as free too but I was bound too fast to this ground

and ground too far down and

ground far too fine too but I danced on

with Nancy ‘til I was out of time

and out of mind (but I must go on for now)

I dance with my mind I dance

with the wind and the night and the ice and

but where is the Nancy?

I dance with memory and death and death and memory

and now the dancing’s through, for

every spring one makes fall’s not far behind –

and life and mind and the night and the wind

go quickly this year of time and mightily as well

and all matter

(but no matter)

…