BEARER

Animus satire,
suture boy,
scrape the soul and
tread this hill
of lilies bloom

strung over hilltops, over
mosque and kings
in their lathes
carve your maritime mornings.

Dry spirit of papier-mache'
run under this
valleys nightfall,
huddle under fence,
embrace the heart where love stood
centuries apart
go.

And
hoard the hardened body,
skein of knuckle and joint and bone,
hold her to your face
love or burden,
breathe her life
finger the fill,
hear her yearning...

and yearning, Minerva, is an art
"ars moriendi",
the bearer - sans purse
is the dream.

Poems by
David Hunter Sutherland

D. H. Sutherland is the editor for an internet publication called Recursive Angel and has had the pleasure of seeing a number of his works published in magazines, journals and reviews over the years. He is also a longstanding member of The Academy Of American Poets and has a collection of works scheduled for publication late 1996.

Contact D. H. Sutherland
Link to "Recursive Angel"

ABSCISSA OF FLESH

Lines,
drift lines,
of creme-filled illusion,
makeup painted into mask,
a faint resemblance,

come of age,
the olive mercy
kiss-and-touch
of hips enjoined,
in dreamy swagger
shear and fray
her masculines,
on heavy womb, on sleeping belly,
wade inside
this liquid flesh,

and draw each breath
through silt fawned nipple,
pink lolling tongues
on blood rich grain,
delights that ease
the sensuous ardor
sashay this soul and heart
to sleep.

SIMIANS FUGUE

They murder me in concert,
make love as though a feast,
brass their nails into this sculpture,
covet me;
with strange mutations,
orphic effigies and rites,
levy tears of heavy metal
covet me;
with obscure gestures,
breach the ruin where I lay,
slur in Latin, Aramaic..
covet me;
in suasive laughter,
wicked slaughters - litany,
ruddy hands and hardened faces,
tangled arms beneath skin-tight pupils,
waxy skin on sky bone rubble,
covet me...

"..Simian shake, a treble longer
spin an octave to the beat,
turn a highbrow to this ballad
flip apractic, On your knees !"

They covet me
in stone flute caverns,
switch and bait antipathy,
carve their canvas down my navel,
birth the body in harsh labor,
arm their weapons, against neighbor,
covet me.

Page created by Liam Marsh