Happy hour oysters
Do you
wanna
go swimming
this evening?
In the ocean
you might find
my body
taking a beating
by the currents
And then!
it is
The Birth of Venus
in the late summer
O, deity!
what might you awaken?
the flesh inside
a seashell?
the touch of
Bacchus?
i see him enter
with the gift of wine
for this object of love
a pool of brine, or
a glass of blood
i see your face when i think of god
       Here, i find myself
       hidden in the oyster shell
       The birth of —
       The birth out of —
       an aphrodesiac
       The birth of —
       The birth out of —
       mouth spitting flowers
       i find myself
       undressed by the Hours

“She was rich money girl!”
Honey —
I want
my life
to be
exquisite
like fine silk
sold in India
The man
unfurled the cloth
for the family
Billowed out of its folding
       “Yes, yes,” we said
        touching its edges
       “This will do
       for the baby.”
We were born
to a world giving
I am here to take it
each stitch a votive object
You and I
       We are simply objects
       We are simply objects
       We are simply objects

The Street Lamp and the Trees
there is a light
above the road
leaves surround it
as a crowd.
I believe
apostles
never glistened like this
in a perfect circle to shade their swollen lips
puckered pouting
the leaves shiver
with the wind
            “Hey you,
              do you believe in our
              sins sins sins?”