Athena
 
 

Sitting on Willows beach.
the long curve of sand
under placid sky.

I gouge the rune for
insight on flat sand,
sill with stones, pour

water on them and they turn
bright black.  A sprinkling
of sand so we don't scare the babes!

Somewhere off to my open right, on deep snow plains,
she walks the Olympics, great lonely slabs
of glittering snow, crushing marks in alone.

Athena. walks naked in the visible spectrum
pale god-limbs showing shining on me
as the fluorescent body of a teenager.

"When will Athena take a lover??
"The menfolk already look at her
altogether strangely, now she has
denied them all, what purpose can it serve??"
 

To touch the kingdom one can
only touch alone, once,
at the end of the perfect path.
 

For she has known the arms already, known
them all, every cross-section,
Kinsey, Desmond Morris absorbed objectively, cross-refere
 

her body, at night leans up,
leans in and gossips with itself.
she sleeps in a knot

promise for more inbred gossip later,
even, a glancing blow off of
The Cinnamon Peeler's Wife.

Athena I want to fuck you

hard, once,

panting, we wear each other out.
and by the second time you'll know
that which you could not

back off a minute

withdraw, in suspended yearning to window
where carcino-particles
combusted, smolder out of a paper tube
emphysema, death, choice, freedom spin in your poor brain.

the death of an animal thing
the dim of afternoon
bedroom, staring out at a bright city.
damn them, the glorious fuckers
damn them all to freewheel in our temporary glorious absence.

we are impervious now

that little dead moment of us
fixed in perfection.  in the

looming knowledge of the bodies.
 

lie apart awhile, luminous love
for your crooked hair, lank,
unpleasant to lie wet across my torn fingertips.

your godly boyish shape, you turn
and press us in clammy coldness
then burning me onward.

In Athena's secret place, behind grey irises
glances given as academic bear
all of the heat of their signifier!!!!!