When A Human Loves A Cat

He’s not even my son.

He’s not my flesh and blood.

Not my species or countryman.

He can’t utter a word of human language.

And yet I love him with all my heart and soul,
every ounce of my being.

My strange genetics to his ancient, long genetics,
laid there right across the universe,
side by side in this unfathomable miracle of
the same moment in time.

I say it with courage,
I say it ready to crumble in endless
sentient, fecund melancholy…

I love you Bleuets.

Serve the house of the masters
to destroy the masters,
undo their myths.

The little, mighty cat.

Star Fields

At night we lay with each other
a human
and a feline
across a place of star fields
we dream

Penthius
Prosthylkass
Zyvar

Places of the endlessly living

Bent fist and paw
we claw
back to mortalhood

With the sun bleaching out
what was known of spirits

we wake to live with
and love each other
not knowing why we love

what has been made amongst
the particles
pronounced in arrangement

Love Of Relativity

You call it 23 hours
the past day we spent together.
I call it a lifetime.
That is how our moments feel.
These relative things.
Do I have the courage to live them?
Lives that come, go, and pass.
But I plan to see you again for
another era,
O spirit still spinning in my heart
into
the stars.
The stars have left us spinning
forever.
As us,
within us,
across us,
between us.

I can’t reach your lips.
Your eyes always celebrate Spring
in their blue windows
and still see sadness in the world.
Heavenly mortal.
Into
the stars.
Eviscerated.
But living here, now.

The Crystal Day

It is crystal the dream and day
after
knowing love.
But
why not ceramic
that holds wine and water
in preparation for solace
and sustenance?
Why not terracotta
for thousands of years
perfect for vessels,
made of the earth,
sign of the village?

Crystal clears and obscures,
stops, splits, and opens light
infinite and fixed
so as the nature of the universe,
mysterious by its own instruction set,
unanswerable — though inert
and living.

(Being, having been, vanished…
and continuing to be)

The day after the crystalline
dream
of love
I seek a pitcher
to store and pour
my water,
that I should not thirst.

That I should see you
when you speak,
speak the universe’s psalms

raining everywhere.

Five Thousand Mornings

The bridegroom hopes
in the morning
under stars.

The peacock stirs.
The songbirds yet sing.
The metal to become the ring
still in the ground.
The stars turn around.
Is it be blue or gold
they bring?
Sun-veiled rainy skies
or the eyes and hair
of a Germanic maiden
against the side of his dark skin,
five thousand
mornings forward.

The day turns.
The songbirds have to sing.
And time now his only companion.
The bridegroom becomes a master.
One part man.
One part woman.

Love In The Sky

I loved the moon last night
how I love you

Tracing curves
Trailing trails

It caused something deep in my heart
casting light
across
oak trees and prairies

something profound and proliferous
for glass creatures below

Its warm lit glow
reminding my neurons
the power in
I love you
and what belongs in a dominion
of breath

It moved tallgrass
sang wind-songs
Spread translucence
much greater than itself

It became love in the sky
there before
my pained, mortal eye

Its heavenly voyage made you be
the homestead of my earth

Yea though it created a moment in time
in space
an era of life verily unto thee

Yes, Different Places Together

Make us separate at dawn,
again your skin tone has turned
to the sunset’s wheat.
We are dried goods on different ships
… I’ll admit
my crew would trade me for you.

Fall with the sea-spray
on the sand of your back.
My mud has hardened
for the tractors to crush underneath
the chores
of a construction worker’s morning.
They are building another
award-winning hotel
for you to sleep in —
your affairs with the sundown.

You, in a grown woman’s body,
have forgotten the nursery rhymes
of your father,
but an older father blessed you
with lips of grapes and beliefs of vine,
so I watch you
give foliage to rocks,
to un-named planets,
so these stars above lose their names
in the death of naive civilizations.

Cassiopeia spilled her secrets
to the bureaucrats of God and the
scientists at Bell Labs
… so as they did in another galaxy,
they will do us in.

The Femme Templar

To have my face
between your legs

is to give back to the world
all that has gone wrong with it.

It is to make a self-disolving offering
to the spirit of the feminine
that has been kidnapped, taken away,
and not allowed to prosper and bloom
upon this sorely misled planet.

It is to sit there in a body of masculinity
on my knees
at the base of all that is right and good
with civilization,

to repent and make the prayer in flesh for a new era,

to say how much I utterly love you
and the way that your body tastes down there,

to ask for a better way of living,
to taste the essence of this promise.

Appointment With Directors

Chase the hills in Mexico,

followed the tones of your skin into shadows,

by the morning the sun was there

all eyes were open
and the beaches bartered eternity,

I reached for a tortilla.

The moss and mold hid, then fell apart
underneath
the eyes of the onward looking directors of Universe.

Afternoon cascaded down your legs
dribble dribble
and my head feels so good,
I smell the old plants,

let me eat the oranges in a still room,
god damn, I am an old man.

 

Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

Enzyme Face With Gravy

You, the bite of grape after wine,
I cried on your breasts.
My tears fled to the desert,
waves of sand, waves of water.
I made oceans fall apart
when the world was just beginning.
Took bites of cheese in front of you,
swallowed.
The cliffs of mountain sides
were falling down every 24-hour cycle.
Infantile planets do that.
You must pick them up,
raise them to their solar star
so that they will photosynthesize.
I was thriving in your tenderloin muscles,

a co-enzyme I think I am.

 

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image
Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)