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| art by David Ho © |
loquacious tomes,
poets and stiff definitions:
not such great partners
sometimes
their sexy implements
their dead smell words
we breathe into them
blend them ends margins
middles and slide lovelies
we wee them
a bent well dug doggie style
hoo hoo who knew blue bayou
crystal gayle linda ronstadt
with all that jazz and hands full of hair
leggings, moon boots, lovers and those times too
I couldn't stop thinking of her as mama
and the drama she lens-ed
for later, looking
for certainty
with my cock
in her mouth, looking
for words,
for their return ...
how well we spend spell sell send dogs to god lounges
summer suns slow blinking in the wee hots
tilts lilts late morning June
bug sequencing DNA like dream bits
breath bread ties twisted together
in some sort of prince to princess rescue rope
the future
hangs limbs
that never made it
in a world
we knew to skew views for
power and providence
science as seducer
simple physics
Tesla serenades
wireless bombastic
manufactured madness
each fit with retro alimentary exits
these glass egg chemical agents
of discovery held death inside
yolk colors, so appealing
we made their grindhouses
full of spittle
and viddles
tender fleshes
into temple thresh
holds and sacred places ...
and any day to come
was a prophecy of hindsight
any day carrying hope in code
was like that
a fat lady sung
wanting to know
that feeling something
feeling anything
was being human
instead of
what is
undone ...
EJR ©
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