tant mieux summer poems

la bete

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sat, 23 Aug 2008 17:11:34 +0000

She's a dark queen bitch.

Ready at the go with her razored pentacle disc,

waiting for the moment to make the throw;

she says, "I'll tear her to shreds."

Alert antennae poised, she tries to tune in the station,

yet receives only static - message unclear.

may 28th -

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 14:27:23 +0000

It is the sweeping aura of the epileptic in the church’s heavy twilight
the stained glass falling, patterns on the pews, prayers lifting
like so much smoke.
So she waits – waits while outside the noise of the city throbs, honks,

downtown, 5:30 a.m.

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 12:08:10 +0000

The taxi stops on the early-morning corner.
Just as I am inhaling a final desperate drag on a sometimes cigarette.
Such a drag not to finish, but taxis are rare this week.
Bless him for stopping; I could kiss the yellow door.

bravery

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 16:48:53 +0000

You call me Brave.
Brave because I say what must be said;
You do not see I fear it too.
We are not so different.

where you are not

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 16:38:21 +0000

12:30 exact and the carrillon sounds.
The great bells in their tower.
People, they hear, yet none see the pull.
Let by some angel we remain cloistered,
invisible, cool within the confines.

strange religion

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 16:37:06 +0000

Such things I would do.
Overcome this shyness in a moment
Show my true trust.
There is nothing I would not be,
to keep this love, dip, dive
a vector straight to you.

two words | subjection, providence

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 24 Jul 2007 01:12:06 +0000

So it is the grand subjection
we fall soft sweet to circumstance
drawn by and to the sea-tide pull of the cream-thick July moon
I am raw-kneed from such prayers of the ascetic
the want of not wanting,
Love, i am weary of these pleas

solstice sorscery | two words (incantare)

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Tue, 26 Jun 2007 14:26:41 +0000

Seven knots red thread Kabbalah & Celtic incantare
this day of solstice enchantments,
words soft any hymn fall honeyed from your lips,
my voice it chants dulcet each syllable of your name –
Each drops to the quiet cemetery’s mown grass

soltice promise

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Sun, 24 Jun 2007 00:31:30 +0000

The queen must have her way
cork the cage with sweetness
and she gnaw her way through.
That constant angry buzzing –
you hear a half mile echo –

progue subis | zenaida

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 13:22:27 +0000

You, you glide in dark, ribboned circles
your tail an elegant ribboned V
...as you move closer to me ~
I hear you coming –
those rich, low guttaral moans.

eighty-eight degrees | 88

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 12:48:17 +0000

Eighty-eight degrees, you – me
an orchard where we kiss, cousin
my summer slip loosed, hip-hiked your left-hand
moving in smooth circles as you
trace each grouping of

soul recalled | two words

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Thu, 10 May 2007 14:31:51 +0000

So are we, am I, at some crossroads?
Should I be grappling with these issues of the soul
when truthfully all I can think is
more now again
Yes, I recall all of those thorny ethical issues,

ocean close | two words

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Thu, 10 May 2007 14:27:49 +0000

I keep to the broadstrokes.
The outline of the map now places me parallel to the Atlantic,
That mutable palate of blue gray green that connects my here to there.
By now my youth, my country, my rough chanel – my Europe.
I see that tide every day

nonexistent empire

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Thu, 10 May 2007 14:24:42 +0000

That is you. A simple yes or no question you simply will not answer.
Is it fear that I will hurt? Take my love away?
Or is it more that yours in this way was nonexistent from the start –
and empire I wove of whole cloth: no, thin air.

ocean close | two words

sadi ranson-polizzotti — Thu, 10 May 2007 01:03:35 +0000