| some of my poems Break Break from me to someone else, from the concentration of boxed phobias- in body blues and green-bottled pills, Drilled through open, creviced gills to sink and grasp each tired remark, to sluggish trips and drip a gaze bored in monotony- and a condolence of the sinful eyeballing the thrifty, the clean, the Renaissance lads through the corner of my eye Shifting a gaze to the left, a pen to the beat of Zebra- Head tired and worn, a beat out of place, of time and mind I can just dream of you between these bars building a thrill to break this cogency over me, Dripping a gaze to the right where I left you. E-Rays E-Rays shoot from the moon to the meltdown of my skin like candle wax, or gently like water over a river bed, to my core, vibrating inside the drum's leather interior, gnawed through candy necklaces and bubblegum breaths, softly on my eyelids and the spiraling cove of my palm, a moonlit ray of sunshine, feel my head, and my zoloft-embriodered down-fall in the morning after. Breakfast Bath I smell like sun-ripened walnuts, as sweet and bitter as a morning rain, skin hanging loose, dripping through a miniature pool, in curtains of lavender soap and hairless legs. Bubbles plume and pop like pomegranates, drowned sound to my Nana's garbage disposal, tearing through orange peels, grating leftover cabbage delights. And smelling like cranberry relish, the air hangs heavier than a Persian rug, tangerine with Bohemian curves like the comforter in my bedroom- like a summer's gravy of Marmalade- bronzed stains on my skin, washed clean and absorbed. A Toast Here is to independence and left-wing philosophies, psychologies cordialed with MGD's and late-night forties, life's sublime, a waking life in la burrita visitations, and cell phone addictions, drop the additude, STOP drop and roll and live to dream you through and through a wandering star, to sleep 'til noon and crash on through, but run head-long into the Groove of life, a red-alligatored two-step light show beat, cinzano-sweet, dare to dream, and dance Eternal life, a divine kiss from a memory. To Mold In a palace of mirrored walls Attempt the illusion of Ideals and the ordinary- reals and rights in the changing years and tides, sifting tadpole mutations filter through this wall of rebellious embargos, bold and frail, standing alone, we tread the tracks of silenced conformity, bent to the progressive's eye, and the immediate gratification of xerox-copy-societies, expect the accepted lot, the norm and the seasoned youth of last year's fancy, reaching for a dream but cowering from the thought, one eye to smile one hour behind. Winter's End We meet at the end of winter, at the reflection of sun our grape-toe flints entwined on the lake, and your trmembling frozen plaster tarn, a portraited cage of glacial ice mirror my face, and my hands, an exaggeration of my breath in your breath, and the elongation of my limbs, where the trickling light escapes an algae watermelon enchantment of pink, bubblegum conception, fungus-flooding bullion drifts. Quieted to the taste of my breath in your eyes, in the pillar of air and underground moonlight, in the portrait of jacketed silence. A contoured mirror in tinseled cheeks, sun-burnt, eyes white, cerulean-dyed, tongues of purple-pink mark spring's return on the embankment, sprouting through a dashboard of tapering skins, tapering ice transform my body to an Isis glow, from this Gypsy mirage I could fall through, but just an echo from the shadow, from this hour-glass membrane where you watch in polished hoarfrost spectacles, from your transient cage, a blur of short-lived grace, exquisitely folded contents redolent in hazel and lavender, In cinammon springs, bitter clover, and every shade of petrified laughter, my reflection, you are mine, my breath is your breath until the forest's edge, when you carry the dew out to cloud. |
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