SHE INTRUDES

Ed Baker

2013

she knows her frets and stops well below the neck I finger into her curves and swoops where play is in the tuned up cat-gut strings wound tight and I am along for the riff for the ride she she-strings me as I play in her long-black ....hair my fingers into everywhere she allows

notes tumble towards squeal to speak in tones and timbre Her temper in the long refrain She s i n g s to this play opens closes half-stops .... is it s own tremolo into her without hesitationwhere silence is the last reply I close in upon and this dichotomy OH TO LINGER!

tilt back head her long black hair swings soshakes methrows me offthrows me off mybalance throws me offmy game her game is to throw me

into the open she is off againin the open goes into her pluck defines the woman the girl is:

"Oh My!", she murmurs "I recognize"myself"in"your "desire."

07 Aug 2010

Dear S.,

your letter dated 03 September 2010 just in and well I am certainly following your every-word and your every-other-thought as reply: why hold on to your torment through 'til dawn? abjuratory as from there to here in new-est work. Here is a piece that I am now working

"G OO DBYE!"

she again said not so much as a beg or a plead as much as that so of her typical posturing for effect... as a command ( she has the knack of making me react without thinking). A woman in her opened window wide the window is and her mouth also a little open lean is into her words her words written into her letters her letters in her own hand and her generated passes through my mind into this gloomy, rainy dawn (she) leans (she) leans into my

letters, drawings, poems pass through my fingers in her long black hair.....Oh My! her mouth a little open a little moist heaves and sighs she plucks ... illicit s.... solicit s... posit s an explicit demand desire is she intrudes is tongue to go into my mouth my words going in is not the only thingplayclearsawayhere-inwhereseeing

is discovery ... the philosopher's stone of love same said feeling acknowledgement is cut-through to center Sun Young Song rises and falls away away away she goes to her Misty Mountain

same-said-song S. opens with a wet mouth her red lips red and a little open a song a prayer she sings to ... who ever will respond she dances for whoever will watch

The Round Dance

she sings and dances the round dance dances. sings. spins. leaves me with her question: "Why does love always hurt?" Is this about me ? full girl she is older now a four-year old "thing" broken down all adequate pluck comes with it s own ... magic ...frightens her twanger magic froggy strung becomes her... Anger Everyone from can as you do in dreams she intrudes with

The Smoke / The Ash

she bit my lip drew blood the taste I remember the taste my blood on her lips in her mouth my tongue my blood her red lips the mingling s of "Switch off the lights." I obeyed. The room fell.Fell I tell you fell into the night nothing was left but a yellow-bent light coming from under the bath-room door that cracked door a little open a yellow light revealing tawny a girl the woman washer long black hair she lit another cigarette went to her mirror blew smoke at the reflection of me reflecting on her reflections in the mirror she laughed [...] then suddenly leaped from where she was sprang onto me from I swear at least 8 feet one leap upon me her heaving quickened quickening curl s blue smoke puff s against this long black reflection blood red the ink "If your hand is on my knee, you didn't put it there?"

"Now I am telling to you the truth"Last night"I read in a book" 'Puff up the indifference of my longing breasts' "I read that line and more so of"Something about art and poetry that I am yet"I am partial to my not knowing what this-all means "To me or towards what it is of you I want.”

20 Aug 2010 Dear S.,

the mailman was late! grasping for something to write to you about another letter to pin IT down I called your answer-phone to hear your voice I wrote to you last night my first thoughts come go rapid eye-movement in deep sleep she naked in the nude my brush-strokes draw her in my hands her words images only nearly approximate those 12 years gone into being thrown off-balance when you raised your sweater bare-breasted as fast as I could I ran out of the house on fire everyone in your neighborhood saw me naked waiting at the mail-box for your letter (the mailman is late)flip is only other possibility do nothing more than: distinguish you from what you say and ... what is done on my behalf ?

fingering this in this letter where you control yourself better than I lost touch and the taste of you in less to double then the pleasures of than to be stubborn about your virtue?

put your body in that red dress

and let us in the cool air dance.

22 Aug 2010

Dear S., I hope this note finds you well and that you are (now) happy. It has been two entire days since last I wrote to you. Enclosed are two new pieces not posed in your usual posturing but, alas a round ripe cay-cay fruit and juicy Oh, you recall.... we loved The Juicy.... and the colors an art gallery would like these you could mount and frame

could put them in an huge food-storage warehouse and when "what's his name" your current ... Lover gets hungry for you he can go to the ware-house and EAT YOU! That way MY art will be useful you know like a ripe banana. or a juicy peach. or an ear of corn. a melon. like two melons.... his mouth devours Ed

22 Aug 2010

Dear S.,

I add: yes it is it is that I in replying to your last letter forgot to includeI never 'think' it is so until I write itor that then and when I atronimate the eclipse of the sunlooking so far out into space through your adequate black-black eyesI get a real pain full moon depends upon her altitude

on some future date 1,000 years from now who will read these letters

full moon depends upon her attitude

or drop this full moon into icy-cold pond where everything ... de-pends? E.

22 Aug 2010

Dear S.,

I am yet a-waiting your reply to my last post. I suspect the worst; that you are now either at Church asking Pastor Enabler for a direct link to [...] or worse further-more when I write I write to you I write to YOU & when I draw you I draw YOUI never write when I pee or pee when I write however for the sake of colorizationI frequently piss in my paints it adds a certain patina peeing directly on the canvas oron a poem on the paper adds not much more than stainsI have also been known to piss off of my back deck into snow thus making a certain spontaneousvisual poem of my I call these ..... Snow Poems

She out daily for her walk around the neighborhood to see what-is-what and who is looking at heris daily like clock-work her play with red lips on her woman's smile on on on she goes todayshe is in a tight wet yellow dress the last time I watched her walk away in that dress was in 1959 she went up Houston Street She went up Houston Street in a wet dress clung to her her huffy wiggle gone in a wet dress hiked up the wiggle (also) is presentation's gift to this [...]up to her sex a little moist a little open flap of dress wet with my seeing her going into words that fail to adequately image this event what savaged means I cannot twist the she turnsnow as then SOME COINCIDENCE she in a wet dress exposed her every word abruptly she stops turns stamps her foot again, again, a-gain the what of....

"You can go to hell!"

In short there is no end in sightPanegyricks to nail to her doorPasquinades at her beckon-call

What? Ten years now? Twelve? What else can you possibly say or do? "Do what you want with me. I love ONLY you," she said.

I ordered a book of 20 postage stamps want is to be absolutely... punctual when required to be ON TIME Be on time.

Ed

23 Aug 2010

Dear Ed,

"Oh! Dear "You are right on time ... perfecto."

'mere Magic of the moment's need, my Darling', I write on this post card; Love, S.

02 Sep 2010

Dear S., I am working these letters into a book a Book of Books provoked by your question of the other day:"Ed, why does love always hurt?" Your question got to my thinking around a possible answer to when the facts are known you will make a sense of 'things' and that will get you here.... next week? So., for you to make your visit and read this book as it is in a round-about way like a key opens opening your door My swing is into an interior and the doing of here the first draft the first time we talked it was of suicide is part twelve of this less than run on and on and on roots and branches of your One True Faith! EEEEE, GADS! It must be old age's got me

(I am not as I was that you embraced the phantasy of the thrust into a position you placed me in... right directly in front of you in that dark room your black hair brushed against and I pushed forward. How is it that we murdered friendship? affection? trust? touch? recognition? respect? Tell me QUICK before you turn forty before I turn seventy:

04 Sep 2010

Dear S.,

your current letter in hand

loving someone is it s own green paradise (let s try to hold on to our desire until dawn) not enough Not at all long enough to be of much use to either you OR me.... writing letters as though we really know l the same as any touch-and-go not enough that to also makes of rules your church

prescribes

must you believe in something? anything? to get you to your next sermon on you mount ?or as your pastor said (as you wrote me that he said) : "stick it to those evil sinners" made your wide-eyes open and your jaw drop! : OH the Wonder of your Faith! so that when you turn the page .... OH WAKE UP! as I am now collecting your letters so do you with mine to you ? read them as a run towards... the Quiet Place on Misty Mountain. Love, Ed

10 Sep 2010

Thanks Ed, as always, you provoke me.

why can't i let go of a relationship where there is not trustand i keep getting hurt.is it me or is it him?i start doubting myself in who i am, what i am.can we live with someone in hopes that they will change?do we change or are we who we are and we spend the rest of our livestrying to change if in fact that is what we choose to do?

still thinking ...

S.

11 Sep 20010

Dear S.,

don't feel foolish... you are in a 'relationship' it seems to me that it is in your own mind you are NOT in a relationship a real one outside/inside ... same-said-song and do if you pretend to be so in one it is a very s h a k e y that you enjoy the stress? from here I 'feel' your warm wants and my stupid-stupid is of little ..comfort no need for you to force your-self any change it doesn't work that way COME JUST AS YOU ARE! change is over-rated is always just happening will continue to happen regardless of how he or you use each other don't twist yourself into a salt-less pretzel for any one to eat; best, now, that I 'butt-out' and leave you to your …. notions ? Good luck, E.

13 Sep 2010

ED!,

no. i'm NOT ! "in a relationship" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!however just reflecting, trying to make sense of it all....

current state of thoughts feelings love, me.

15 Sep 2010

Dear So.,

OH MY! Did I "go off" ? just, maybe don't try so hard to make any sense out ofthings I think/say just look at what is directly in front of you ...just as it is

look into your mirror that full length mirror that is in your bedroom blue cigarette smoke masking the image of yourself watching me reflecting back then, POW!

images in your mirror are in my mind to use draw to use the images that are reflected for the thrust of this : SHE INTRUDES

just in case you re:visit this "relationship" (the latest one/ the last one?) I promise you that there will be ABSOLUTELYno way that any readers (I should be so lucky) will have any clue as to who my "muse" iswho you are ....

Sincerely, Ed

16 Sep 2010

Dear Ed,

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO KNOWS !

the world is vast and wide

the stars see it all

full moon intruding

you always help me get back to my space

S.

16 Sep 2010

Dear Ed

I got the drawing that you are using for the cover.good cover.i'm honored.keep that mind of yours turning til it touches thefarthest stars xxooxxxxoooxoooxxxoooxxxxxooooo,

S.

18 Sep 2010

Dear Muse,

I did, today, a new front cover. The first one well that image of you your face to my eye appeared 'mask-like' will use it on back cover like a puff of cigarette smoke that "masks" your face not at all necessary to continue.

now to inter-twine all of these letters / poems / asides you just might filter out all of my blather... I am just trying to convince you to come visit. sincerely yours, e.

1

19 Sep 2010

Hey Ed,

My grandmother used to tell me the old saying, a Korean proverb: "When the tail is long, you will get caught."

The word "tail" makes me picture the word "tale" at the same time.Whether it's tail that is long or tale that you tell is long, you will get caught, or as we say, it will catch up to you.I feel like my tale, tail is catching up with me in terms of the lie I have been living as a Christian.It's a long story, but anyways, I wanted to share that with you and see how it resonates on your heart and mind.So, She Intrudes once again.

love, mep.s. SO, I AMUSE YOU ?

19 Sep 2010

S.,

Is your grandmother yet alive? My mother died last year. She was 94 Born in 1915. Your grandmother must be about that age, too? and, to answer your question: sometimes you do....

20 Sep 2010

Ed,

She just passed away early June.She lived such a compassionate life, serving the poor and theunfortunate.In the end, Alzheimer's robbed her of what was left of her life.She was 94. born in 1916.She was the rock i stood on. She was my strength. She wassimply love.the lie that i have been living ... i have been trying to be pure, but failing.i'm no virgin. i lied to them said that i have been pure in my relationship with one man i have been involved with for the last 4 years. i understand they are trying to live by the Word. teach the Word, and mean well for me.but i am a sinner and this has been my weakness and a challengethey just found out again that i have lied these past 3 months.i couldn't bare to be called into their office and be humiliated for the1001 time.i wrote a letter to my pastor apologizing, and volunteered to leavethe church.the church women have been my family. when they find out, thiswill crush them.I feel as though I have lost 'face' and can no longer see them

it's all to my shame. Call me