weathered satyr, sate her ................................................................................................. #NaPoWriMo2019 .................................................................. #GloPoWriMo2019

there is an unusual scent 
to any money lent to execute spirit 
the human vessel 
and a troubled soul 
are a bones routine, repeated 
per infinity 
though observation 
says 
static cling 
fluidity and 
an elusive muse 
will amuse 
me ... well aye I
fantasize 
about a world with 
perfect things 
knowing how imperfection 
shaped the way words fall 
from my fingers 
like some spiders 
along highways 
made of cracked egg shells 
bits flits tits and ass 
driving the rain 
I'll explain later darling 
just how high and hard we parsed a setting Sun 
but this wry expression of surrender 
was neither sly wit or a complete capitulate 

we took our seats near the entry way from the foyer 
the guest speaker was at the lecturn 
we did our best to not lock eyes with the curious 
to respond to our little scuffle steps 
and muffled remarks 
as we made our way in 
we sought pretense of being 
part of something else

I know nothing 
but the repulsion 
of sometimes 
held against me 
sins of the father 
blah blah blah 
a lather she says 
take a tidal bath 
and lose ourself 
aside a fire 
kite the world 
if you need 
and let it go 
into the deadlight 
of stars 

why do you hide 
in the grottos 
and the pines that beg the cold 
accompany the mushrooms 
and other sundry divide charms, I ask 
she laughs again rummaging my fumbling(s) 
and says nothing lasts past now 
unless of course you insist 
on carrying that shit 
every where you go 

"... near the sea you're free 
to hold onto you 
and not much 
else if you want 
the richest patina 
a human being 
can achieve ... " 

land is post womb 
exultations exultations 
lactates and milk maids 
there for sharing 
of where the Sun went seeking 
slippery elm and other deciduous 
Wintered rooted folk 
mountains breathe rain 
three thee the sea calls us all 
to play molecular shapes 
escapes scrapes 
leaving this taste of you 
monsoon season again 
and the cantilever roof 
reaches, fingering out 
mangrove, branch and root beneath 
steel tin corrugated almost 
catch shell shouting over 
the roar 
we stood 
a quiet embrace 
a little laughter 
coming up for air 
in space when time went looking for us again 
but who then can know what we sow 
when apple seeding is the dysmorphic entity 
a soul sucking surprise parlor trickery 
we sold baked goods on the weekend 
to pay off the vig, a gig hungry endless mouth 
of a divine being once ago 
but every throe or two through 
eons 
and their ghost cries 
chain i themselves 
to wanting 
to the mast 
to the music 
to what remains 
as we fade 
to black 
arms 
legs 
lips 
tongues 
entwined 

we found storms 
allowed us, howl 
sated now 
can be(s) and 
wingless mutters 
udders waxing 
parted glow when a soul 
takes hold 
of its bones 
bleeding out 
ripe and rife 
with Life 
right 
now ...

EJR ©