Nomenclature

Nomenclature

We label a thing and think that’s what it is.
Meteor, nitrogen, corpuscles, larynx, God,
follicle. The goal seems to be simplifying,
acknowledging, and quite often, I fear,
dismissing.

An agreement of sorts is what we desire,
or common currency. Therein lies progress.
Admittedly, this is so. But what we name
did quite fine before us, and will do well
when we are no more.

The Earth is not the earth.
Blood is not blood.
Fire is not fire.

We each had a pulse long before
we knew of aorta, artery, or atrium.
May no words choke us, even as the letters
your mother, your father, decided upon --
continue to not be you.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Old Bucket

Old Bucket

All my life I’ve carried things.
So many falls so many springs.

Frosty mornings, cooler eves.
Boots below me kicking leaves.

Crooked handle, dented in.
Squeaks against the rusted tin.

Target practice, I’ve been there.
Years in barns with not a care.

Rediscovered, then re-used.
Refilled, hammered, and abused.

From this truth I have rebelled.
I’ve carried nothing. I was held.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Consumed

Consumed

My rough hands across the satin of your back
last night.
The raspiness was incongruent. You moaned.

There were infinitesimal hairs before my lips
met your shoulders, that I kissed.
My spirit left –

me.
You have redefined so much.

To leave or to continue.
My mind has never been so devoid of thought,
upon a subject.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

What It Is

What It Is

Not necessarily the absence of loneliness
but as good a place as any to start. Because
it must include this. The bird without feathers
does not fly, but put a bunch on me!

So it’s more than orgasms, simultaneous
or otherwise. Glances, winks and baubles.
Should contain all of the above, along
with a scent of perfume unsprayed.

Edna told us it was going back and forth
all night on the ferry, with merriness. Or
so I freely interpret. And it is this, it surely
is, boat capsize or safely dock.

But at the top of the staircase is the landing.
Here we stop, and embrace, knowing that
none of these pinpricks of light below us hold
a mutually beneficial friendship, like ours.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

The Rowers

The Rowers

Above the table, a Renoir of flush-faced rowers
Finished rowing, hangs. And he fishes a boiled
Egg from its shell, as she grabs his wrist,
The knife quivering.

Rather than saying, What? Now, at breakfast?
Or, I just had a shower! he sets down the knife.
Takes her face in his hands, and kisses a similar
Ruddy blush. Toast can be re-toasted.

Sweet Lord, you cannot hear the sounds from a
Room down the hall, nor see. For your ears,
Your eyes, are not here. You are there.
Only these two, are here.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Initiative

Initiative

I have seen that eyebrow raised just like that before.
If I’m not mistaken, back then it led to good things.

Why is it now I wonder?
Why is it now I hope?

I never wondered or hoped before.
Back then I knew.

Now you have cut silence in half with your eyes.
With a flicker, two letters vanished from impossible.

Come to me.
Let me add to your initiative.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

Earlier

Earlier

Speak to me like you spoke nuzzling
as the fireworks quit echoing
and the smoke cleared.
Tell me what you said when the ducks
paddled toward the bread we threw.

Whisper what I felt when your soft hand
on mine, squeezed.
Shiver like you did before I wrapped
your own jacket ‘round your frame.
Feel what made you throw it from you
Earlier.

Tell me again, how Hopper speaks to you.
Show me that shadows are what words
want to be. When I take that book
from the shelf, recite to me the first sentence
as you turn to the night
and lift a glass to your lips.

Tell me what I already know
but want to hear now,
and keep hearing, until I am long dead.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008