Poem 124

For those of us oppressed by the figures of beauty as Leonard Cohen put it … the idea that if we set beauty at the high table as our ruler then we become its peasants, its underclass …

( I like watershot and bone structures as delicate as satellites … invisible tissue refers to corneas, how amazing that a part of our body can be transparent …  )

Grace

The percolating blood like light in a building
turns the whole thing on
                            the heart pumps
  beauty
              bones bow
like sprung wood into a face
                                eyes watershot
invisible cold tissue enclosing
darkness
            she walks in grace means
we throw down our grace
for her to walk on
                    from every rock
we cry out our ugliness our heaviness
which the earth rolls under
                                never rolls
away
     no our feet are required
to be pierced by beauty
                            the death
of our skin is required for angels in fiery styles
  bone structures as delicate
as satellites
             we the ugly the ordinary
the unformed
               kiss each others' broken hands
imagining the endless cool fingers
of statues