Voices

A voice: a channel of sounds
remurmuring through one mouth.
One voice arises from a mouth
as open as the moaning sea.

A voice seeks another voice to sing with
(A companion of breath
in a voyage of sounds)
other planes of sounds:
silences
whispers
slips of psychological dress
chatters
or full-blown operas of drifting voices
clasp the interior rooms of
Nevermind.

When her lips sound those notes as
bottles
LOST
in the liquid equipoise of her tongue or
Venetian mirrors of her imaginary home
airs in the parenthesis between our lips,
my voice trembles
feels
drum-beats.

That phrase which fingers through our musings --
a blankete lightning strike rocking on the cradle
of the tentacles of the moon. That phrase (a foliage
of words to cluster the silences into emotions) --
the cabinet drawers open to reveal a package of letters
tightly-sealed in Chanel #5 soirees with former belles & beaus.

The place of exchange: the coy gesture masks girlish nights
when lost in charms of pillow, plush wine
escapades,
one becomes more intimate than one intends in a kiss
with another girl or
an erotic stare) through coiled, voyeuristic routes
(speeds into avenues of traffic lights
where one becomes lost as to the boundaries of one's hemlines.

Or if under those books, those books which
wet in the rain, one senses a spiritual love
in a stranger's body or a love which transcends mere touching
under the disguise of a formless pool,
one may print those
toeprints of waterlilies as one likes.

Words, words: marks or loosely-chained
atoms -- an arrangement of sounds that pitch
balls of reality onto a field of wide-open plates
or sling irrelevants into audiences
of beer-guzzling
conversations.

"Never?" she asks as bits of curiosity sparkle.

"Never."

She breaks into a cold, aristocratic laugh.