March 11, 2015

parabolic parasol too...





parabolic parasol too


light pared
spared pear's 
sweet sensory 
cut mottle ripe 
in a white bowl 

holding scent 
leaning out 
a window 
as Spring 's
a-comin' through 

in between(s) 
I rubble bones  
slow rise true 
melt heavy wobble 
wanting, wearing 
your skin

you 
scream 
why quiet 
beauty 
need be
on fire 

you will it 
you demand it
it must be 
rust 
it must be 
determinate 
Sun 
salt and
ash 

you 
scream 
quiet 
beauty is 
now 
on fire

lengthening day stabs  
a late Winter's eve
desire then
turns, drippings 
pan caught 
slow roasted fats
are proceeding

the receding 
old man is
begging 
pleading 
lipped rings 
kissing 
the crackling 
of skin 
he already knew 
we'd cook 
catch 
and release

shadows can get 
sunburned and do
I hear white noise, say
whisper damp decay 
is again fertile today, too 

rapid iris shuttle sign 
is often the timeless 
wanting to be a poem 

words at home
are like I 
closing eyes, just
to see a you 
to know me by 

dirty 
legume 
loam 
circus certain 
tome tone 

savoring 
perfect 
indices 
lingering 
where time 
doesn't count 
against you 
much while 
in motion 
and connected 
to another

EJR ©

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