She loves the smooth boys
not the rough
the rough she binds
in chains of conscience
their frustration gleaming red
as they press against the bars
furious at the loss of their violence
enraged by the helplessness
they sought in the eyes of others.

She loves the smooth boys
whose lust remains leashed
in the graceful curve of lashes
laid on their cheeks
her touch quivers their flesh
sweet mouths pursed with their moans
she climbs the smoothness
and slides gleefully
into their embrace.

copyright – 07-10-2012 Bauke Kamstra

Open Link Night ~ Week 69 ~ http://tinyurl.com/ayrbwdf

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I heard a song and thought
this must come from heaven
it was so sweet
the angels let loose
those heavenly dogs
their feathers like knives of bronze
draw lines gentle on my skin
holy signs brailled and braised
inked with blood.

A sanctified night bristled
with sleeping crows
only the owls wondering who
I knew with the knowledge
that escapes the words
rising angel-winged steps bore me up
sounding carillon bells cleaved
the roughened air
up that celestial stair
their cool regard shivered me.

I climbed right back into the world
the same night beating
itself on the ground
looking a little ragged
from the wear and tear
still, the sweet song stayed me
the angels quietly arrayed.

One moved to me
like a wind moves a storm
and O God, she was beautiful
they all were, of course, like a uniform
but the eyes, her gaze speared me,
the glow within the skin enticed
and dangled by that hook
everything was crowded out
there was nothing like that
the frequency is too high.

I felt her hands
the soft sharp hands
gripped me like a pen
writ me back onto the world
the wisdom seeping in
I could not say
what she spoke with her eyes
but I knew it.

The light arose
the night dispelled
and all the crows made a black clatter
against the sky.

As the owls slept unanswered,
weeping, so did I.

21-09-2012 – copyright 2012 Bauke Kamstra

Wings – #openlinknight – Week 63 – www.dverse.com
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As the filtered end
of the year comes near
the sky grey
the rain somehow wetter
than other water
and the land
after a brief moment of brilliance
becomes grey too
and a little brown
the colors leaching out
preparing the long night
and the white
a clean slate
on which to paint
a new year.

#OpenLinkNight – Week 62

copyright Bauke Kamstra – 18-09-2012

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There was an elevator here once
It was here longer than I’ve been around
it was big enough to be a landmark of sorts
they put grain in it, of course, I don’t know what kind.

It was funny how they took it down
caterpillars with crab claws
instead of buckets, pulling it down in
big pieces, then tearing them apart
like carnivorous ants, saving the metal
it made me think of finding coins in an old couch.

They scrunched the metal up into cubes
giant dice covered with runes
that only told of the end of things
not much future around here any more.

The docks haven’t been used for decades
but they haven’t been torn down either
no metal to salvage I suppose
the ships still came when I was a boy
up the river at high tide, to be left
high and dry when the water went out.

But the swallows still twist above the dyke fields
gorging on insects with wild choreography
and even though it is a new bridge, the grackles
still rise from it, a sentient cloud greeting the dawn
the cows remain unwary of the butcher’s blade
and the fox still stays safely away.

The ravens chortle at me when I pass the corn
whispering dark crow humor into the tasseled ears
then flying ahead to make omens in my sky
and I wonder if there is a machine for me
to pick apart my bones and pickle my flesh
and see if there is anything left to salvage.

25/08/12

copyright 2012 – Bauke Kamstra

#openlinknight – week 59 – http://wp.me/p1GTyJ-13G

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I look at the moon
that old man
who winks at me
having been there
longer than
history
and I think of the man
who set his foot
in that quiet place
now gone deeper
into mystery
than the moon ever was.

27/08/12

copyright 2012 – Bauke Kamstra

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