acquiline

someday, aquiline, we will change the world. with scissors, and smells, and simple smiles. with photographs and tunes and quills and rhymes. and voice the secrets of a compulsion -you and i built seventeen years ago. breaking melodies and losing lives. yet singing beyond mountains, a country way down to the oceans. to poverty, you say. i have seen, and read in painful caricature. of the tin man and the dead. struggling and fighting. defeating the defeated. in a chromosome. embrace and willfulness. in a cosmic turbulence of the pens. scribbling a song in cherish and love. your cancer death. your sheepish, dull vanity. a tarnished smile. in loving love. and hating the pang of poor, phenomenal rejections. in the bar by the bottles, we ran to the edge. you smiled, sheepish. developing an agency of the maniacal hysterical demented. to say, my strings are torn. my heart is broke. rolling your face in the green, cool color-dome.

marilyn, marilyn. i obsess. at the carnage of the rapist. the artistry of the dead girl. the alabaster breast. the sexual squeal of norma jean, where is your myth of lust? to your orphaned frock. and prongs of devilish ridicule. the symbolism of your triumph. in song, so lyrical. so poetic. so simple. in your goggle bills, and panty hose. in a parallax of the phallic monstrosity, a kingdom of sorts. you rose to bail. you queen of songs. your sequined sex. your rouge of bliss. your lips of wax. your curls of oil. your hands and legs and string of eyes, in the polylogue of the humanoid, the paranoid, the junk-setter trend-bite. what it is, to hide behind. the diaspora of your sensibilities. ill-treated, mis-treated, unheard and unpainted, while you lived in the shantytown of shame. for in the posthumous, they gloat and lionize the chiffonade of your hungry symbolic. untold, retold, forever signed. undulating with time, the eye of warhol. the playboys and bunnies. the '40s of drugs. and cigarettes. and drugs. and cigarettes. and druggoids and cigarettes. and men. and whores. and lust. and sex. and in the paparazzi of your beauty, the cheer glow golden globes. broken, within your loneliness. it never cured. it never sailed. you died. lonely.

in the human crystal canvas of my city, you lovely man. your wife had asked. dear moe, darling love. how will i live without you? and you said. dying. take the love you have for me, and spread it round the world. you smiled, and slipped. and fell and died. remained your wife, retained your words. and clicked your cold embracing rigorous death, to return to the ashes. in memory of love. in memory of happiness. in memory of bliss. you wrote in your will, after i die, blow me a kiss. paint my lips with the tenderness of your touch. and bury me in remembrance of our love.