Lina Ramona Vitkauskas (Chicago, USA): Three Poems


Wistful shame of being,
I throw myself into the sun
of the gold rush, a glottal stop
in an arthropod's mouth.

What curvature I had in cars,
opposing hearts tangled
& cordial corrections
but you come away
with free, clutching me
in front of the grill
a naked tournament
of truth & thighs.

Is this all we are,
parallel & verdegris
melting potential of fauna?
For jilted lovers
& lace tubers have never
been our scene, someone's game,
wild in sum & mind.


The whole honey veil
of being born, the patent
asp killed by candid netting,
please give me rust &
summer beets &
winter spinach &
convulsing, calm
diagrams in garland.

One day, the pretty
diametrics will best
her best machine. Her
fallen silk in the algae pool.

He joins her at the screaming
wall. She has become a bridle.
Leather piercing his annex,
sweet unblonde interception.

Oiled lace on wanton
flesh his organism, hers,
a feverish puncture
and his blind kind
inner archeologist, quixotic
sensual waters,
a morning innoculation.

She acorn, she anemone,
aching for the answer
in chords of deviant bells.
After his kiss,
what is the crime
without the weapon of love?


Morning's murder,
our fire brains
winged. A green apron
aims for diametric evenings,
luminous the nails of my.
We perishable,
cradled chaos,
we coal error,
we pleasantries.

Beneath counsel
corners, we draw quiet,
save the stones
of our heads
gelled & loving
(still to come).

What aches most:
your birch rhythm
and what accident
voice my small hands
stopped senseless.
Your cunieform
above the banks
waves of sense.

Light passes
through the bony
turnstile, welcome
to color and devastation

© Lina Ramona Vitkauskas 2007