Category Archives: Poetry

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“Cow Worship” by Gerald Stern

03 Saturday Oct 2015

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I love the cows best when they are a few feet away
from my dining-room window and my pine floor,
when they reach into kiss me with their wet
mouths and their white noses.
I love them as they walk over garbage cans
and across cellar doors, over the sidewalk and through the metal chairs
and the birdseed.
— Let me reach out through the thin curtains
and feel the warm air of May.
It is the temperatures of the whole galaxy,
all the bright clouds and its clusters,
beasts and heroes,
glittering singers and isolated thinkers
at pasture.

expectations

02 Friday Oct 2015

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We are loathed
to give such feelings
anticipation, mercy
to forests, trees of sap

In the hills of middle California
where entire mountains are cultivated
to be chopped down
right before the bulldozers & axes arrived
they’d send us, part-time archaeologists,
to verify that they weren’t destroying any,
“cultural remains;” all that summer & that heat
I walked one foot ahead of the bulldozers
looking for fire-cracked rock, obsidian,
anything to indicate that this swath
of trees, this valley,
these canyons, could be saved

and the trees held their breath
and the wind turned its cheek
as I passed by

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the peel sessions

15 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, quote unquote, sonnet

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Ill kept, bad investment, this aftermath

when we drift off to sleep. Some want two sips

I need a whole damn ocean, a bloodbath.

I know about quenching. How the bullwhip’s

handle, when pressed just so, can stem your whole

deluge. I’ll leave it there. To wet my lips

and then moisten my mouth, rupture your soul.

I run my fingers through you, though what drips.

I call it soul — something that I can touch.

Slake. We all have appetites and there’s bliss

when at last full. It’s what copper suggests

on the tongue from peeling fruit. Insomuch

as my tongue can peel your fruit from this kiss,

this pulp, this sweat pooling between your breasts.

— Babylon Crashing