...while Blue dyes over my Redness...

  • Published: September 2009
  • Format: Perfect Bound Softcover(B/W)
  • Pages: 152
  • Size: 5.5x8.5
  • ISBN: 9781426913525

This ingenious, intriguing and experimental poetry is eruptions of myriad human emotions cycling between healing and hurting whose pivotal force is unyielding belief in love.

This ingenious collection of poetry is the record of the author's experience on love, ranging from irrevocable loss to erotic ecstasy. It is her unique, pure voice and original style that captivate the reader's heart in new, surprising ways.

The excerpts:

"Language is all I seek because I'm tongueless.
And because I'm tongueless, and because my tonguelessness is too great to bear upon my body, I'm a Tongueless Bird. Yet burning memories all a-kindled still thorn me & sting me on the tongue, so I sing.
      And I sing throatily.

And when I sing, since all this heaviness on the heart would not be sung out, my lips treble nocturnal murmurs in an attempt to burn the unutterable grief away, while all the earth yonder there under my winged roof is all swept at peaceful sleep—
      So am I a Bird Bird Blue Bird.

I wish I would be born a Blue Bird,
      the body dipped in sky water, the voice in cool wringing Blue,
with all the memories blown away—
Lull the Red, Blue Bird, Poor-memoried Bird,
      Blue-bucketed, imbued Blue, Fly high, Fly Forget, and Melt all memories so Blue—

so that when I, a Tongueless Bird migrate across the sky,
people may not understand a jot why the sky is so beautiful and so luridly beautiful—
      like all burning hell-like blood, like furious lime-like blood!

Bird Bird Blue Bird,
      Blow away, tare the Sky, open the bloodshot Heart,
Oh. Red-breasted migrating bird...
      Bird Bird Blue Bird, my Poor Tongueless Bird. "

(from "Bird Bird Blue Bird")

* * * * * * * * *

Reminiscing on the time we had together:

To Sidny

For Protection and Warmth
You Dressed My Bare Soul

against nine hundred darkness & ninety nine lone dreams,
you were the one
warm & firm—
from cold & flimsy reality,
and the feeling— that I felt real.

It was so blessed for the bare & hungry soul to keep your words
as warm and full
ever since.

Therefore, by the name of Love
take my vein, open it, and drink it
until you find hither one Beautiful Heaven
strong enough to bear a thousand Hells.

But still if it’s not enough,
beyond the songs in muteness,
beyond my soul’s crushes and oozes
beyond Time we exist,
even beyond infinitude,

let my silence speak for voice,
let my eyes fill where word misses,
let my body consume to fuller senses,

let every drop of mine pulse every stream of thine;
if my songs are not enough

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Oh then when I locked my lips
and wrap the verse with gold,
I was green and foolish,
and ENOUGH was not that I learn to measure.

So I bend my verse and write here again
to You profoundly silent mouth,
You so eloquent eyes.

With Love, and thereof Memory,
With Memory, and thereof Love,

Tongueless Bird,
in my songs in muteness,

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

To Sidny

with whom my Time emparadised after I died long ago
In Heaven Sidny, time is hugely elongated, all shuffled up, and one best human hour is tenderized and dissolved into one heavenly year, like a moment when a scrumptious Blue cotton cake is wafting over your lips— from the very virgin sink of the tooth to the sensational swallow of the sharp electric inchoate bite... And one best human day is malleably liquefied and sweetly fused into one hundred heavenly years, like a Château Margaux Bordeaux full-bodied and deepened with so much patience on your throat, lethargically swiveling her purple way until the slow swirl rinses down along the long-lunging languorous neck.

According to heaven’s calculus, one choicest earthen moment, once compressed, is interminably suspended in Heaven’s aeriality—to be transmuted into an eternality, the succinct sum of all that you’ve learned, known and that you’ve lived in human temporality...

So, in Heaven, only the best human moments exist; all you remember is happiness; no one ever loses the memory; and men and women are all ageless and indestructible, so they live again and again after many dies... just as a couple of salamanders rising above the ashes. That is how, where and when I found my Time with you emparadised after I died long ago. That is what we’ve been passing through where the sun doth chime at every golden hour gracefully over us all shadows and over us all and all.

Buy This Book

Perfect Bound Softcover(B/W)
Price: $23.00

Other Books By This Author