[Newspoetry] acid poems, by david and marty

[david moses fruchter]

* * * * *

first acid poem

i choose to believe
in the false idea
that energies exist without physical form
and that we are passing these
between us

i've never chosen to believe such a thing before

* * * * *

the words we use
(now and always)
note only the barest trace
of the communication occurring
between bodies

* * * * *

shower poem

wet,
marty whispered in my ear
(having discovered
that we could only speak intelligibly
if we did it right up close)
that every drop of water
drop of water
that slid into her mouth
became her
became her mouth
and vice versa
and that she understood me
a lover of showers, and had
come to understand why
in that loss of self
it reminded her, she said
of an amniotic embrace, the way that
anything your body could do
would be washed away
taken care of

she said that she became me in there

yeah, i said
nothing you can do is gonna hurt the shower

that's why i love my girl

* * * * *

occasionally we tried
to point to a hallucination
wanting to show the other

but dancers get bashful when you point at them

* * * * *

towel poem

marty said to me:

the music, when i first got out of the show
the music, it was different then

out of concern i interrupt her:

would you like it to be different again?

no, she says
it's perfect now
it was perfect then
and if i may continue:

it was something a bit more...tribal

so, as i reached for the pink towel
(gesturing to the deep green one she wears)

i realized that no,
    that would never do...

* * * * *

numerology

three is definitely better than two.

* * * * *

marty says to me:

i think i might actually be able
to form a coherent sentence

i ask her:

but would it be worth it?

no, she beams

* * * * *

marty said to me:

oh, i thought you'd gone

(after i had just been sitting here for minutes
in the same place
about 4 feet away from her

writing one of these)

* * * * *

marty poured water on my head
and temporarily regained the ability to speak

maybe that's what the baptists were in it for


* * * * *

i said to marty,

i'm an obsessive describer

describing myself

* * * * *

our god

we have covered the television and its stand
with rich purple fabric

above it hangs a plant,
vivid green strands hanging down

and between them
making the neck
parallel vertical lines from the inside edges of two windows
light streaming around

we genuflect dramatically
to the Plant-Head God of the Covered Television

* * * * *

nitrous oxide

1.  marty says to me:
you seem like you've done _this_ before

and i say to her:
i swear to you, i have never done _this_ before

2.  marty says to me:
i've said it before, i'll say it again
i'd sell my grandmother for another one of those

and i say to her:
well, luckily for you and your grandmother
there's no need

* * * * *

the tray

a culinary poem previously prepared
by ms. marty
is waiting for us at the end:
homemade hummus, tabouli with little chunks of cucumber
and tomato
feta-walnut paste
mango
warmed pita and baguette
a hunk of asiago, another of gruyere
cold water in tall green glasses

we take the wicker tray which my mom gave her
specifically to make me breakfast in bed
(or so i often theorize aloud)
out to the backyard,
where the stillness of the very early morning
combines with the heavy summer air
so all that's heard is a leisurely munching
interspersed with moans of gastronomic delight

later, sated, we recap:

what a great day