I don't write, I paint myself blind with words...diogenes herded...ignorance...gilded cages...filling up on beauty unleashed...free will's maddening fractures...eyes that need to smell to see...
March 24, 2016
her water wears my stone/ leaves marks mirrors like to see
she gives rain altars
in a neck art nude
from any town
prosperous in elegance
places that say
when you enter here
just so know
we are both
trying to live
perhaps one muse is enough
but I am greedy me, you see
I was born bargained for then rejected
for a never did seem content with me
what was I bent with
and would I come
with you carrying
pocket pocket peruse
mining the acutes
from all my obtuse
and now that Spring is here
I'm serving drinks to Demeter
wearing north winds with
empty mason jars for mirth
to drink while we greet
her daughter who sometimes rides alone
an entire song, commercials too
while wading life's bones
from the feast loam pantry
music weight petals are falling
crawling the skies as if beaches
as souls do, here on Earth
outside the town of Skaneateles
I remember an ice cream stand
along the southwestern part of the lake
it has had this intoxicating timeless transport effect
that sends me back to the mid 1970's
ever since I could report
or retort or resort to poetry
as a way to think or
to understand, beneath things
is where I wear my moorings thin...
I imagine while in line here too
there is a long seemingly endless series
of mouths that are ever hungry
for you as well
how is it you feed them
without diminishing
your own stores
is it silos in the dark
cloaked cavity plush regards
pieces beyond the light
so that each plight
is given semblances
and provisions
enough to believe
the quest is
at least attainable
on their terms
is your purity of myth
and narrative perception
how we are dressed
in the windows
of your observations
am I mannequin harlequin
or pagliacci or any sin
you can feed
there is no need
to always be grotesque, you whisper
I'm just outside the reach of glass not broken
here is a hammer take a swing
unseen imagination
is doing tricks
corner to parlor
holler to scholar
but you were want to take leave
and said so as you arose
too much of me I suppose
does make one sick
and there is no infirmary
interstellar travelers lodge
for a mending respite
despite any of your artistry...
the Moon is already smitten
with someone else
a little prince
and all the stars
are scars and tombstones
so I suggest
you s tart
me within...
-----------------------------------------
I look and leap
with spoon to peek
at what cow seeks
was it what I wanted
that something to put there
above the barn I swear
above the cupola sat
a weather vane of copper
wide hips suckling atop her
of course she was right
I could be flat broke and drunk
and s till see that dropping
my esses were these dresses
I wanted her in and out of
as if she were a painting or
a portrait of what I wanted
everything to be like
when I woke up
from dreaming
about her...
I purr, pearl knit and pray that
I really get to feel your ass
and not necessarily nude
yoga pants can do the trick
ivy dock dick-er-y brick
and mortar cages fade life
to a patina here, scent of sagebrush
minstrel eyed myriad(s)
birth swarms of hoppers
seasoning the fields
teeming to burst
EJR ©
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