Monday, March 20, 2017


I put my middle finger
in the crater of flesh
to taint your frustration

it is sometimes intimidation
to owe me this much
when jazz plays the night
with piano keys & gentle trumpet
pulsing numbing beat
under warm embraces clinching
to the orgasm of their cold feet

we have been here before
we have seen disappointments
come & go
like a burning pendulum
to seek a homey curriculum
to align some sensible design
of a life chained by promises
& a legacy seldom defined

you let go
with stretched out fingers
as the beat lingers
into your redundant thirst
for some singular acceptance
of a construed experience
hidden in an oyster of our strife

we let go

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