Today we’re writing ekphrastic poems based on medieval manuscript marginalia. Well, its been a long boring day of essay writing but I’ve sunk a beer and had a good old laugh at the array of fantastic, bizarre, pornographic, distrubing and pure genius images.
Unfortunately, most didn’t spark any real poetic response, much as I really really wanted to write about a cock tree. Oh well, that idea’s a keeper.
like a dog skulking low
with a sorrow bone
you creep into my silent
parts and howl.
before you, there was always
tomorrow. before you, i took an eye
for granted. i took the television
for granted. i took graffiti
as art & the margins
of borrowed books to be clear
when we drove there were
headlights. when we stopped
there was violence. when we danced
there was some music hammered
from the heat; never knew your body
from a burnished copper sheet.
never knew your body to be separate
from mine; the push of swift fingers
& the long salt suck
talked into mornings on a cheap
carpet, the cast of it in braille
scarred shoulders & under thigh
now. throw you the old wound
that shapes my crooked heart.
it fits the niche of your jaws
as if pride for the purpose.
you speak without saying much.
tell me which conclusion
i am supposed to draw.
Picture credit: fucking crazy old monks.
& special thanks to iron and wine for keeping me company tonight.