Archive for June, 2007

Like that.

June 30th, 2007 by Matt

For my money, Tim Seibles is one of the greatest living American poets. I’ve just recently cracked into his latest book, Buffalo Head Solos, and I wish I’d started it sooner. It’s one of those books that you realize you didn’t realize you were waiting for. Also, it must be said that his book Hurdy-Gurdy is absolutely masterful. If you’re looking for accessible, heart-aching and heart-lifting art, well, that book doesn’t make a misstep. (Just as an FYI, I’ll be reviewing Buffalo Head Solos in the not-so-distant future.)

I came across a poem of his the other day that just needed to be shared, that I think folks will be able to relate to quite easily, that jacked up the endorphins going to my head, or heart, or head-heart, whatever it is that makes us love anything in this world. And frankly, this poem is so kick-me-in-the-keister good, I wanted an excuse to type it. I hope you dig. Reading it is three minutes well spent.

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FIRST KISS

 

 

Her mouth

fell into my mouth

like a summer snow, like a

5th season, like a fresh Eden,

 

like Eden when Eve made God

whimper with the liquid

tilt of her hips –

 

her kiss   hurt like that –

I mean, it was as if she’d mixed

the sweat of an angel

with the taste of a tangerine,

I swear. My mouth

 

had been a helmet forever

greased with secrets, my mouth

a dead-end street a little bit

lit by teeth — my heart, a clam

slammed shut at the bottom of a dark,

 

but her mouth pulled up

like a baby-blue Cadillac

packed with canaries driven

by a toucan — I swear

 

those lips said bright

wings when we kissed, wild

and precise — as if she were

teaching a seahorse to speak –

her mouth    so careful, chumming

the first vowel from my throat

 

until my brain was a piano

banged loud, hammered like that –

it was like, I swear   her tongue

was Saturn’s 7th moon –

hot like that, hot

and cold and circling,

 

circling, turning me

into a glad planet –

sun on one side, night pouring

her slow hand over the other: one first

 

flying like the kite of another.

Her kiss, I swear — if the Great

Mother   rushed open the moon

like a gift and you were there

to feel your shadow finally

unhooked from your wrist.

 

That’d be it, but even sweeter –

like a riot of peg legged priests

on pogo-sticks, up and up,

this way and this, not

falling but on and on

like that, badly behaved

but holy — I swear! That

 

kiss, both lips utterly committed

to the world    like a Peace Corps,

like a free story, forever and always

a new city — no locks, no walls, just

doors — like that, I swear,

like that.

 


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