My Life Was A Bright Magenta Once

My Life Was A Bright Magenta Once


I have grown quietly absurd
a contagious
virus in the bloodline
of myself,
almost imperceptibly,
I am withdrawing
huge depictions neatly-boxed
intricately-bonded predilections
neither Catholic
nor poet
nor female;

I reclaim my vision:
emptiness feeding
always hungry for more..

My life was a bright magenta once,

…and so it is...

handfuls
of earth and sky,
breath, breasts and wings,

reaching
inside and outside myself,
a broken-armed
Venus,
a rising foam.

~~~~

I once had a vision
a feeling
that came to life
You
were living in Munich
and I in Ohio
we crossed paths
once or twice;
You
were a vagabond
and I had no place
to go—

years later,
we made love
in the truth we found
in one another,
but You died
before I could taste Your flesh
..and now I am
in my chosen Bardo,
feeding hungry ghosts of myself,
there are only remnants here,
little earthquakes of poetry,
burning with desire,
scraps,
homemade delicacies from the table
of our hunger,
Vampires
sucking
the daylight pale.

~~~~~

Someone remarked
you had "Chinaman eyes",
I was stupid that day
when I pictured how love might look,
(surely from the South of France, or
London, Cambridge; I've had enough
of Spain.)
be careful
my jealous heart
from what you turn away,
there's a revolving door
where all thoughts are things and
listen with dead ears,
I wouldn't have
thought
Karma came in
a 6'2" German
with Chinaman eyes.



~Anna