write this, effable and ineffable both

write this

emmer effer

a pretend genius broadsuction

some days are better than none

the message board

Why I Want to Have Sex with Poets

David E. Patton

Their hands knows the moment of a million sound

…Words fall hard to shatter, recollect into some other,

Hubble bubble words hover above the scent of an emotion

Their tongues transverse hidden lands

…Short leaf pine, rough bark of cinnamon red scales,

Dark-blue green needles devise against the

Evanescence blue evening of tonguesville

Their breath smells of the alphabet

…Ox water Alpha and beta before gamma,

Damp or fluent as lambda, flesh coffins

Hissing young grass after taste of decompose tress.

Their eyes see what other ignore

…Our minds blacken by its own shadow

Enclosed as the acorn of over cup oak

As sycamore ball borne on the bone of our spine

They will bear witness to their own thoughts

…If everything could be said there will still remain

A handful of words; flocks of captured blackbirds

Endless circling for a way out

They come to except earth’s simple truth

…Earth produce no waste of stone, water, bark, flesh

Or bones. All is consumed, consummation of ones own

Importance, death impregnate life eternal.

They freely give it to you

…Man eat air eternal, a shared plate

Drinks from the same earthen bowl,

Spilling our water with water of all that flows.

They are spies of the Gods

…Knowing of what going on

Beneath the dine size flowering moon, perplex

Expression looking down on St. Louis.

They ware a simplistic cover

…No return from nature, no separation but

Imagined superiority

Shows extent of human ignorance.

They are earth centered

…Earnest earth owns nothing but itself.

In sleep we breathe as earth breathes innate

Life is whole owning to itself alone.

They masquerade

…As mesquites, cat, as moon, as jay, as tress

As transmitter and antenna insects, as banjo

Or lyre, as micro cosmic vision focused on an eye.

Man for woman each for the other pleading.

They are forever examining, poking eyes into emotion

…See Aluriste and Antler, Patchen and Poe

William and Whitman, Ginse and Gun, Vorhes and Emily

Rys and Bye, Delgado and Lorca, Hughes and Hayden and Kent Johnson’s eye

Translating Nicaragua poetry

Poetry is emotional

…There is no shelter from the confusing

Emotional weather that governs

The landscape of our mental garden

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David E. Patton writing has appeared in Mad Blood, The James White Review, Rocky Mountain Arsenal of the Arts, Bay Window, 7, and Guide. His chapbook, Milk Bowl Moon over St. Louis appeared in 2003 from Perisistencia Press. Also an accomplished, playwright, Composer, painter and sculptor, Patton currently resides in his hometown of St. Louis, having spent much of the pass quarter century living in Denver, Boulder, Milwaukee and Boston. His book The Trinity was published by Turkey Buzzard Press in 2008

writeThis.com, pretendgenius.com, cafehopeless.com and author.