Updated 06-27-00

(In Memory of "Robert G. Swagler")

Music

Music, When soft voices die,

Vibrates in the memory-

Odors, when sweet violets sicken,

Live within the sense thy quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,

Are heaped for the beloved's bed:

And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,

Love itself shall slumber on.

By: percy Bysshe Shelley
 
 
 

                                                           THREE WOMAN
 
 Audrey

Audrey was an angel
Of lust
And must have murdered 
Fifty men and then
with flashing eyes
Fifty more
Upon the altar of her thighs
Before she ran completely
Out of comers,
And,
Retiring to another place
Soon lay to waste all the
Male population
From the old, infirm and mild
To the tenderest, erected child
Until
she was finally convicted
Of homicidal bawdry
And that was the end
Of Audrey. 

  Nina

Nina loved compromising
Positions,
Imposed conditions
On desire
That would tire
A Bull Elephant
in twenty seconds
 (As the cock flies)
And seconds were never enough
For Nina
Ninths and Tenths
Were more her style
And after,
while she fed you almonds
From her lips
Her hips suggested
Secrets still untried.
Her eyes implore
And then one breast
And then the other begs
One more amazing arabesque
Of arms and leg

 Sylvia

Sylvia liked to pretend
That an end in itself
Was not the object of desire,
But that these things
Were on a higher plane,
And lying back with half-closed eyes
Explain the Fourth Dimension, God,
Or any possible extension
Of present fact or future fancy
From Jean-Paul Sartre to Necromancy
And all with such cunning misdirection
the Spasm passed without detection

 
 
 

THE VOYAGES OF CAPTAIN COCK
You, sad Captain, big-knobbed staff of life,
you should be mountaineering with a wife,-
Off probing that crevasse few husbands reach-
Not panting here, upended in the breech.
 
 

MISS TWYE
Miss Twye was soaping her breasts in her bath
when she heard behind her a meaning laugh
and to her amazement she discovered
a wicked man in the bathroom cupboard


annie died the other day

annie died the other day

never was there such a lay-
whom, among her dollies, dad
first (“don’t tell your mother”) had;
making annie slightly mad
but very wonderful in bed
-saints and satyrs, go your way

youths and maidens: let us pray

A CANDLE

There is a thing which in the light
Is seldom used, but in the night
It serves the maiden female crew,
The ladies, and the good-wives too.
They use to take it in their hand,
And then it will uprightly stand;
And to a hole they apply,
where its goodwill it would die;
It spends, goes out, and still within
It leaves its moisture thick and thin.


 
 
 
METAMORPHOSES OF THE VAMPIRE

Meanwhile the woman, from her strawberry lips
(A snake on glowing coals, writhing her hips
And kneading her breasts on the iron of her bust)
Let drop these words, heavy with scent of musk’
“my mouth is wet; I know the way to bed,
To drowned old conscience in its depths till dead.
On my triumphant breasts all tears are dried,
And old men laugh like children by my side.
For those who see me naked, I take the place
Of moon and sun and all the stars of space!
I know, dear scholar, such voluptuous charms
That when I hush a man in my dreadful arms,
Or to his biting kisses yield my bust,
Shy and yet wanton, fragile and robust,
The very mattress swoons in ecstasy,
And angels, helpless, would be damned for me!”
When she had sucked the marrow from every bone,
-Turning to her, as languid as a stone,
To give one last love-kiss, I saw her thus;
A slimy, rotten wineskin filled with pus!
I shout my eyes, transfixed with chill and fright,
And when I opened them to living light,
Beside me there, that powerful robot
Feeding its fill upon my blood....was not;
Instead, the cold ruins of a skeleton
Rattled and creaked like an old weather vane
Or like a sign hung out on a iron arm
That thought long winter nights swings in the storm.

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