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k-word... @ the couch
(the _"edited" version)

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the lit match

karrie jackson

mind provoking squares
of a coffee shop floor
remind me of you
the feast of my ethiopian heart
a menu of mystery
sifted by the clock
reverberated hoots
from 5 tic toc
high pitch accept ion
slapping the face
of self deception
queen
of the crease
in your lower lip sea
of my lust’s destiny
to greet
this “negra” epiphany
that will never cease to be
I know little
of your soul
yet my stomach still twists
into dragonfly journeys
of your telephone addressee
under the pick-up order sign
when my eyes smelt
your mask of sweetness
but somehow know your naughty
with a traffic sign pose
as your grill grows
into midnight’s smile
more wicked
than a caffeine high
of lock box torture
and a blues spitting band
I want to speak
measured by days
as seconds wisp away
into shut lids
of carnal vibes
when I meet
your mask again. . .

as sheets of water killed the window
karrie jackson

I sculpted your face
on canvas today
as sheets of water
killed the window
your eyelashes
laying together
in a moment of spatial sunshine
eight oh seven reads the clock
as the red disk spins
jazz continues rolling
into the incense muffled air
and a spotlight on these blue lines
tell stories
of whispered goodbyes
at one forty-five
dancing in darkness
darkness dancing
today i replay
and replay
your sexy voice
like a bass guitar
"alright late-ah...."
softening the answering machine
stealing me back
to moments
between saturday night
and sunday morning
just like the house of charm's
singing fountain
in the dark
these clouds who cry
make time melt
like the city's streets
melt into the dimness
of 212 on a thursday
after the artists scatter
away from the darkness dancing
just like the did today
leaving
only silence from the back room
the only music
that plays in my hand
sculpting sweetness
in the early night
dancing in darkness
as sheets of water
killed the window
and the canvas
became
you