Amerindian Tryst
(link below, to painting on this theme, by David Russell)
Oh: could I be the saviour of culture
Through our love?
First I make my thrust
And then am clasped
By the redwood case of your toned form
Above the apex of my oil-balmed tan
Yours burgeoning out
Mine seeping happily in
And so arouse me to our pushing each other
To our clinched erectness
Through our embrace we stifle the Great Dying
Through deep-breathed lips I am turned fluid--
The serum of total health
Spread in its sheerest droplets
To be the total cure
Our clasping traps and redirects
The energy surge of war and rapine
We are the life force
The Tsunami reversed and purified
Nurturing anew the soil
The forests, the herds
Our cities rise again
From the crumbling
Of the white man's concrete
To
view poem and comments and thegoldenlantern-blog
