me and Danny Griffith switched the genders.

it's me:

..how barefoot I went. Upon a frozen creek-
> no enemies, no pride and no illusions.
> Among my dreams and crazed empty thoughts
> I wandered without any point.
> 
> I don't belong, I don't intend to stay,
> My time is over, muscled body-crippled.
> I wish I'd lived a million years ago,
> To hunt my meat with bare arms and fangs...

**********************************
it's Danny:


Good Plantings

In the bogs
your bare feet in the
membrane, stepping out to take
my sludgy fecundity as your boot.

In the contest for the fittest
your language always won and
I thought in words I couldn't own.

But my lips
are closed to you, who
do not know what words I say.





it's me again:



*******************************
Capricious minx! How many precious words
Are stolen, washed and dried and fell to pieces
In the attempts to fit and to describe 
Perfidious pure essence of females. 

You"re not exclusion. Women always lie.
No-means- of course. And yes-pronounced-never.
I will descend in darkness, but forever
Will hear your silky, warm and tempting voice.

**************************************
and Danny:  


Two trees entangled in each
other against the smoke on the 
horizon--an apocalypse to frame

our double helix

our choreoimpracticality

and only this jutting member would
dare to cut itself a silhouette in
such a playground--in spite of
which you find nourishment

*****************
and me: 


It"s  torture, magic, feast and pure joy!
I"m waking up from every single doubt.
I wish I never start this conversation
With you that night-remember?-on a porch.

How dared I to hope and even cry
For help in such a desert of illusions?
Why don"t I stay as doomed as you desire?
Face down.
           As a slave. 
                       By tiny feet. 

Сентябрь 2008