I jumped into -
through -
my shadow tonight

Into the lime light.

Have you ever fallen
onto your bed and
felt new?

Like you'd fallen
from a great height

From the warm
into the cold
into the warm again

As if you're sea swimming
In unclothed skin

Warm ribbons
Cold ribbons
Of wetness -
Depends on where the sun smiled.

I leapt through
The darkest part of me

The darkest part of the night.

I jumped onto my bed
The cold part of me

Stolid air
Threw itself
Into my lungs.

You touch coldness
Only to lose it.

To know warmness.

Love, lost

Somewhere you are easy.

Somewhere you are
Still beautiful
Somewhere you are

Somewhere your smile
Bursts into laughter.

You are all around me

I can't see you

Only on the backs of my
In the glisten of
The insides of my palms.

In the shrill of the
Last night's wind.
In the cellars
Of my childhood.

In my mind's
In the fog
Of sweet death.

I try not to disremember you

To keep you
Alive in me.

Love, lost

Somewhere, you are new,
Somewhere you are still beautiful.

And then I am King

Self buzz fizzing up from toenails
To middle hair on head.
The king is here
The king is coming up.
Bubbling drivel surging out and up.
The tongue is silver and can do no wrong.
It is a huge gleaming meat knife.

The king is here.

Everybody loves it. Loves me. The mirror is smiling.
It wants to be my mirror.
Offers resurgence.
Skin is fizzing.
The fizzing is under this skin.
It wants me. Consumes me. Loves me.

Make way  the King is here.

Wild vision.
The correct vision.
The truth was always here.
Wild eyes. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful soul.
Numb mouth.
You always knew it was like this.

The king is forever, gallant
Almighty conqueror.

Eyelids bang shut.
Please, please stop
The noise.
Leave me here.
I like it here.

Doorbell chiming.
Somebody is knocking at the door of my mansion.

Thoughts whip.
Where are they who are
they who where are they.
Never stop.
Please stop.

The surging was in the body
Now it breeds
In the head
Laying dirty eggs
In the existence.
Was the king on that side of the room
Or this side?
The floor is the ceiling
The ceiling is the floor.

The king needs to sleep.
Tomorrow will be a lesser day.

3 poems
              Alicia Buller
Poems (c) Alicia Buller 2001