orangutan man/phase 2

                                                strong, lean and dark skinned
                                                he holds his broken heart open
                                                and watches soulís red oils ooze
                                                man wrestles with stormy moods
                                                displaying passion
                                                cavalierly
                                                he wades through the doldrums
                                                which always make him uneasy
                                                he is contemplative, shameless
                                                and much more than these things looking closely
                                                one sees hard-earned victories
                                                confirmed in shadows of his seemed profile
                                                on inner orphic battlefields
                                                heís leant to gamble with fate
                                                his jewel eyes expose
                                                years of tumultuous passageways
                                                eyes that like saints relics
                                                          pierce
                                                          calm
                                                          anger
                                                his gaze speaks of lifeís stern
                                                instruction itís
                                                          clear
                                                          bright
                                                          direct
                                                          bashful
                                                          prayerful
                                                          brave
                                                          playful
                                                understanding comes from his eyes
                                                he is more solemn-tempered now and
                                                not-as-free-as-he-once-was
                                                self-provoked philosophical quandaries
                                                larger than he
                                                pull apart his heart
                                                heís been wounded by the patriarchís sword
                                                and pieces his broken parts together
                                                letting time polish rough seams
                                                smooth
                                                some injuries never healed
                                                like mended bone
                                                but his heart is stronger
                                                in the broken places
                                                manís words articulate
                                                his psycheís complexities
                                                          precisely
                                                          guilelessly
                                                          metaphorically
                                                honorable abided
                                                he tells of the things which
                                                cleaved his side
                                                and where he still suffers from soulís
                                                vaporous assaults
                                                man longs for masculine/feminine notes
                                                diluted by contemporary culture
                                                to hear lifeís uncharted music
                                                to have harmonies guide him
                                                man longs for once-known rituals
                                                buried deep within him
                                                muffled by the age of sterile electronic wizardry
                                                have truthís constructs collapsed?
                                                his heart can never forget
                                                its own bio-logic drumming
                                                manís father stands at the
                                                periphery
                                                bent and cowered, a lonely silhouette
                                                his father lived a different kind of life
                                                he speaks another tongue
                                                (with fewer recognizable words and concepts)
                                                his father is frightened
                                                disinclined to enter
                                                his long-betrayed territories
                                                through man
                                                father encounters his own disowned soul
                                                he feels his awkward injuries
                                                again, the things that tormented
                                                and aged him stand out
                                                man has found his stride
                                                a cryptic credo
                                                he challenges his fatherís and the cultureís
                                                ubiquitous shadow
                                                pivoting away from memoryís etchings
                                                he tosses off a deadly
                                                inherited schemata
                                                and the notions of how he
                                                should have been
                                                outgrown
                                                prior generationís burdens
                                                - once shouldered dutifully
                                                are off-weighted
                                                through his verse
                                                another kind of life reverberates
                                                some new place
                                                is congealing within him
                                                the place of poetry
                                                an ever-changing sanctum where
                                                          he flirts with circumstance
                                                          he tempts destiny
                                                          he dares the gods
                                                          he dangles his feet
                                                into a newfound region
                                                a cavern of hope
                                                man, with a sinewy grace
                                                pushes against gravity
                                                balancing uncertainly
                                                          he is proud
                                                          he is anxious
                                                while future phantoms try to
                                                          pull him down
                                                down beneath where intellect resides
                                                his physical architecture adjusts
                                                strains to hold him up
                                                craving intimacy and
                                                reassurance
                                                he solicits the coarse
                                                and soft territories
                                                of other men
                                                          their arms
                                                          their wet musk
                                                          their dented hearts
                                                he wants answers
                                                to common questions/share fears
                                                he pursues encounters that reflect
                                                old knowledge
                                                things that bridge the wide male chasm
                                                he reinvents the warriorís clan
                                                and casts about for muscled affirmation
                                                praying for atonement - a way home
                                                lingering at the edge of
                                                enigmatic carnal regions
                                                          baited
                                                          ravenous
                                                          whetted
                                                since youth man has hunted
                                                tender
                                                masculine love
                                                his vacuous parts still bid their resurrection
                                                and dreams bring well-known faces
                                                into daylight hours from
                                                his nocturnal imagination
                                                they beg him to go deeper
                                                those figures have appeared
                                                ceaselessly through time
                                                he no longer needs to know why
                                                he knows what they want
                                                          they want his naked heart
                                                          they want his erect totem
                                                he is not so apprehensive now
                                                man visits non-delineated places
                                                once prohibited and denied
                                                he wanders there enticed by warm
                                                sensations within his groin
                                                - kindled and writhing -
                                                manís sensuous lips utter poems/koans
                                                          one after another
                                                                       cascading wisely
                                                                                    scribed exquisitely on lined
                                                                                                 yellow pages
                                                penning his true-tongued spirit
                                                illuminated lush passages
                                                new worlds
                                                man descends into the
                                                dispossessed chasm where
                                                copiously scents linger
                                                          chamisa
                                                          juniper
                                                          wild purple aster
                                                          scrub oak and
                                                          cottonwood
                                                autumnís fragrances soothe him
                                                he recognizes once-known
                                                their ethereal substances
                                                and gathers wise old stones
                                                to hold with callused
                                                gentle hands
                                                man urges others to join him
                                                          at the edge
                                                          at the chasm
                                                between what may be articulated
                                                and what must be
                                                left for the wind to say
                                                - wordless
 

by Marc Perry