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POETRY PODCAST voice recording archive audio files

200201

For Mayan, dear to my heart, before we met, and as we part.

—

The only girl I know who has daisies in her eyes

is this 23 year old Israeli chick

Green eyes with a milky-black center, from which

orange-yellow petals literally grew

sometimes reminding me of

sunflowers (but mainly daisies).

I told her she had a mandala in her eyes

this circular expression of the soul

To look at them

not knowing whether to

kiss them, hold them in memory

or dread if these flowers would live or die

Should she shut her eyes, my fingers travel north
to

the catty corner between her forehead and where

childhood dreams begin

Wherever I go on her face, her body, her hair

something is connected to something something growing like

fruit, like flowers, opening and moving like light

I am brought to places I don’t recall: simply
because I have not been there before.

Such newness in a person is better than traveling abroad:

a shame that others should travel so far, when a journey can be
so near.

Below her neck-line, nipples persistently erect
with soft firmness like raspberries

archived lower (and in-between), nestles a wild strawberry

and yes, her legs and toes are branches to life

I’m baffled by analogies of eyes being windows
and nipples being tits as if women

were pigs, goats or cows pussies being fish and the more prominent
compared to ice-berg lettuce

When I wrap my self around my girl: every smell,
touch, and travels of the eye

I am honored to trace something only life itself could create without
analogies of contempt or disgrace as nature itself bears seeds,
fruit flowers, rays of light,

creating endlessly with perfect and messy precision

My Israeli chick, is a daisy blessed with fruit
and speckles of beauty marks yummy sinful powdered confections sprinkled
on her milky skin. It is a mix you can’t find in any girl, organic
sections of the super market, exotic trips or group-rate brochures.

She traces this concoction back to that of having
a black grandmother. Grandmother
schmanmother when I said that one need not travel so far for a journey
so near:

I was speaking of your soul.