wrinkle-crackle crystal specialties

Desert Wine/Manhattan Sour

sweat dripping between our breasts
sun mercilessly bearing down
among arid sands
pearls clinging above your chest
neon playfully coloring town
below slick streets
the only wind the open windows
an oven sucking up our moisture
lips cracking
the many sounds behind doors
a soiree filling up your desires
hips hopping
land fades into sky, no horizon
muted colors all of neutral tones
desert hallucinations
walls blare into ceiling, no morning
brazen colors all of electric tones
city undulations
water gone, swirled down hours ago
still half a day until relief
wishing for night’s cold
whiskey to go go, plenty around
just half a night until grief
fearing for day’s heat
a rusted house off to the left
one lone truck turns in as i pass
swerving us in dust to nowhere
a chrome revolver off to the right
a thug weasels in as you laugh
inviting you in trust to somewhere
desolation looked us in the eye
stranded, bruised, dehydrated
no energy to try
anticipation ripped wild your sight
unabandoned, flawless, saturated
no care to ask why
you summoned me to power
with a salt dry kiss
on my dry salt lips
he enticed you to frailty
with a sweet wet taste
in your wet sour mouth
fatefully we drove onward
staring desperately for salvation
seeing only crackled clay
blindly you dove forward
rushing carelessly to damnation
feeling only what he gave
running on empty bodies and tank
then a transforming sight
rising hills of hope
fucking with sated bodies in haste
then a cementing gaze
sunken gutters of fears
soft willowy trees on a bank
of pure turquoise waters
nakedly we plunged in
starkly lit lamppost on a corner
of tarnished purplish ether
ravishingly you plugged in
as the sun lowers obligingly
we refresh our burnt skin and float
gently in relief
as the moon rises regretfully
he pierces your pallid heart
groaning in pain
sweetwater enters our pores
muscles untense in soft currents
our kisses wet again
acrid blood leaves your veins
sinews rigor in hard denials
your kisses never again
a rustle from the far bank
two denizen otters slide down
and swim along with us
a blare from the police car
two commuter cops snarl lips
and ignore your last breath
twirling their bodies like ours
then give a knowing look
and laugh at
flicking their smokes at your body
then give a disdainful sneer
and mock at
our innocence your innocence
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8 responses

  1. that is one of my favorite things you’ve written, WB.

    May 16, 2010 at 2:05 am

  2. mcewen75

    This is very creative. You are so talented Walt.

    May 16, 2010 at 8:47 pm

  3. Original, stunning in its contrasting imagery and so desperately sad

    May 29, 2011 at 1:09 am

  4. Amazingly vibrant and creative, Walter. I started reading a line from each, left to right, and it was like a duet. Beautiful!

    May 30, 2011 at 10:52 am

  5. A song, Sir W. I read this first vertically, then across, and it seemed the pink echoed the blue. Lovely, and different from anything else of yours I’ve read before. Peace…

    May 30, 2011 at 9:44 pm

  6. I like the contrast/complement of the parallel works. Everything about the pieces (the piece) comes alive.
    Remarkable.

    June 1, 2011 at 9:07 am

  7. Wonderful imagery and juxtapositions.

    June 1, 2011 at 10:58 am

  8. I love the form you’ve created here, how it can be read multiple ways, how the parts are both contrasting yet parallel. Great use of imagery and language.

    June 2, 2011 at 6:53 am

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