DAVID BOISVERT
David's poetry reflects his interests in psychology, history and spirituality and has been described as "dark, homespun, sensual, rich with images". His latest chapbook is entitled Walking Naked Down the Street, published by Coldwater Press (Fort Macleod). A selection of his poems have been published in the Interpscan Journal (Canada), in Our Journey (Oregon, USA), and three poems "Woman with a Hat", "Serf", and "Gone After Dinner" in Mudlark Press' Rags III: A Journal of Creative Writing (2002). Blaine has presented his poetry in Calgary, at Waterton National Park's Bear Grass Days, Lethbridge's Peace through Poetry campaign (2002) and StreetFest (2002 and 2003) as well as the Fort Macleod's South Country Fair (2002 and 2003) with him being a featured main stage performer in 2003. Blaine's current writing project involves a series of poems about artists of the 19th and 20th Century (including Van Gogh, Toulouse Lautrec, Rene Magritte and company).
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YOU
You lie with me,
your hand on my thigh,
your legs touch
back of my knee
your buttocks shine
like double rising suns,
there in mirror image of mine
You lie there
with the boyish curls of hair,
with your inviting flesh,
with look of pretended innocence,
you tanned against white sheets,
your fingertips trace
down my spine
You stand,
look down at your naked body
see steam rise
from sweat of passion
nipples still erect,
your abs still tight
with orgasm
You rise
from water,
foam still
clinging
to fingers
you reach for me,
you the smooth
and sleek one
You stretch
your arms,
envelop the sky
with one reach,
your reach so wide
that it goes from day to night
like those rippling rivers
of muscle that flow
across your back
You strut,
cheek up,
puff smoke,
show stiff neck
and curve of collar bone
you looking like the world
was your oyster
to be swallowed
You look out window,
wait for me,
you with bum of tight buns,
you perch on arms
like
some anxious bird
You dress in silk shirt
and leather pants,
well packed,
you with face
in darkness still,
with fingers going
through your hair
Your eyes lift,
you look at me
with come hither stare
with wisp of hair
escaping from below,
rising up
towards your navel
and beyond
You dance for me,
your clothes
dropped to floor
your arms rise,
surround your head
like one stretching
up to heaven,
almost touching it
You stand in shadow,
it touches you,
follows your curves,
goes to
your secret places
curves out
and touches all of you
and still you
stand in shade
You fold
into yourself
when storms
on your mountaintop roll in,
fold in
with head to knees,
buttocks touching
cold marble floor
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STAND IN THIS PLACE
1
You
stand in the haunted place -
a prisoner in this bare place -
no clothes on
you,
no one here
for company;
you
stand naked like Pan -
weeds grow up around
you,
invade
your
umbilicus,
invade
your
private space,
invade
your
sanctum
sexual.
2
You
stand beside the house -
you
push the wall
you
naked man
asked to do the impossible,
asked mostly
by yourself,
here
your
manhood
rises not,
here it falls
amongst
the curly hairs.
3
You
stand up
against the wall -
stripped naked,
vulnerable
as light pours
into the room,
bathes
you
in diffuse radiance
you
lean against the wall,
dark faced,
while the world
fades away -
bright light from sun
sneaks through the bars
touches
you
in all body places,
gives sense of freedom
where none can be
easily found.
4
You
stand again in door,
checking out the sky
for sun or rain
you
lean
against the frame -
you
in
open reflection
you
letting
everything in,
you
without
your clothes
on.
5
You
stand in the desert -
sagebrush growing
in this dry place,
all is sharp and prickly
here -
the sun kisses
everything here
including
you
on this new sand -
no moisture in this land
except
for that inside
of
you
Out of that sand
rises
large
rock cliffs
behind
you
6
You
stand
on river bank,
in forest -
you
grow out
of clothes,
you
recline -
River curves
imitate
you,
lying there
looking
at it.
7
The sand
touches
you
finds
pores
to settle in
Every
thing
about
you
is
tight curves,
every
thing
moving
more fluid
than
the earth blood
behind
you.
8
You
rise proud,
stiff muscled,
arms to rear,
you
arch
your
back,
your
little god
stands
ready
to be
worshipped
yet again.
9
You
stand on beach,
beach of
cracked mud,
you
are
smooth mud
touched
by the hand
of the Divine -
all parts
of
you
were
sculpted
by the hand
of
cosmos.
10
There
you
stand,
naked,
naked
strutting
your
stuff,
looking at us
eyeball to eyeball,
naked -
standing
in the doorway
to life
11
You
stand among
henge stones,
you
touch
ancient power,
it
touching
you
near
naked stone,
naked
you
in
midnight
light.
12
Cold and warm
winds
kiss
you,
kiss
it -
you
sticking
it
out there
to get
noticed,
succeeding ...
you
erect,
straight up,
taking the air,
toes
leaving ground,
wings
growing out
of your back..
13
You
stand before me,
before us,
skin over
your
body,
taut, stretched,
made of curved tan
and pink marble -
you
walk
down road
naked,
walk down street
naked
just walking
naked,
walking
naked
in the wide open spaces
walking
naked
between
the molecules
of the air.