Blue Hyacinth & Other Poems

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1. BLUE HYACINTH

Lost, lost, lost
As if lost in a labyrinth
Of quicksilver pain
You like a grounded reptile
Slashing and burning
In jerking saliva
And I am hardly sinking
Like your drowning flotilla
In a breastful of hemlock

Thump, thump, throbs
Your little heart
Beating hard upon
My closing moments
Penetrating your shame
With a ramrod
Of vanity crucified

To save you from dying
In collapsing disguise
From the long breath
Of your shadow’s weary self
I see you it is me in you
Being overshadowed
In leaves of blue hyacinths.

2. A FIVE-HOUR BOMBSHELL

Something
Like an image
Of bone and skull
A grasshopper
On a tetrahedron
In opaque green wigs
Bombarded
By a five-hour bombshell

Something
Like a puppet
On a string
Fondling the breasts
Of a wallflower
That could not hear
The bombs of darkness

Something
Like a winged firefly
Lying in ambush
To shoot off the bombshell
For the moments of a five-hour
Spoiling the grave of darkness
Of a caracass wonderfully woven
Into the web of virgin spring
To massacre the the bloodshed
In effeminate love and rejoice
And the muse of guns roared at last
Into a laughter by the rule of game.

3. LAST NAIL ON THE PAINTER’S COFFIN

Refused waywardly
Like a waylaid wallflower
In a harem of damsels
The opiated image
Its puckered face
Charred and choked
By the termites
Of relapsing moments

The torso hanging loose
In compromising positions
As if by the painter’s noose
Cubic silence in chiaroscuro
Of shadows in gothic blues
Spreading strange aloneness
And leitmotif of splendours
Of the hangman in absentia

All at once
The wallflower
Leapt into the melting sky
To become only one
With the opiated image
And to kiss the dusts
Of the painter’s brush strokes
With a flash of gothic blues
And it spiked the last nail
On his lifeless coffin
To hang the canvas
In agnostic suspense
On the hearse carrying him
To the lone gravedigger
Digging his body for the soul
To bury him in his treasure-trove.

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