assimacopoulos

the immolation bland

through tilted mirrors

against ears distant door

wolves bay from all sides

shedding fur to the sun

it makes a loud pigment

au natural through men and dogs

elevate them stand compass against the wind

the smell of coffee rides the Hudson

the warp and weft of the lungs contain

the immense valleys of atmosphere

you hear the cackling ice ricochet

the naked woman steps into the talons

supporting the lion's foot bathtub

the water eucalyptus clean

her skin obscured light blue

shrinking under a reducing lens

you want to go swimming

that scene of porpoises making love inspired you

she left her smile at the dinner table

when you fold and knead the bread dough

it reappears flitting around like a

glowing off-white-winged moth

caught in gossamer dust

when I think of a smile I think of the teeth

it's not the teeth that smile it's the lips

a carnivore's teeth rip across meat and bone

a smile is created by the mangling and curling

and stretching and distorting of the lips

the teeth are the neutral canvas

flashing then vanishing

if only her smile appeared to me now

dogs would bark

sirens would wail

tie me to mast or rudder

against the winds of summer or autumn

keel haul me

the teeth beckon the other's lips

without the teeth a kiss is disgusting

the idealistic doctor sought to kayak

across the river to the hospital emergency room

the current swept him downstream

he ended up a patient miles away

that's the Hudson for you

they broke over this kayaking

and now she bathes alone

in an overflowing tub of patina