Monday, September 23, 2019

A Writing Corpse


Crickets annoy her a lot,
Or just as much as the other person.

Her mind a ruffle, an ostrich’s back
When its head is buried in the cold sand.

Can you tell me a story?

Adam and Eve were smoking
With the birds and the snakes
When nudity was not embarrassing or perverted.

Isomorphic tentacles come back around
So pay attention you must act
Before you can say I’m sorry.

Organic horrible smells green
A stream of paradise is never upside down
But still lifts the maple glaze from the color of her eyes.

It is no surprise we head for demise
When the solar winds etch your skin to wrinkles
When the canal of your youth is halfway there.

You continue swimming
Butterfly or backstrokes breaststrokes
You won’t have a stroke
Don’t you worry, keep on swimming
Into water you shall return
Drip drop drippity drop
Until your knees fail to carry you through
Rather bleak won’t you say?

What you want is what I want too
An integral space
For dreams & random dots
For drifting in love
When no one is watching.

As deep as my breath
Her eyelashes stretch in electric cables dispatch
Possessive currents of temptation
Singing lusty lyrics
To his breathing skeleton.

8.8.2019


masks are hardly

  The breeze from the rushing train Still brushes my long hair Still gives a moment of surrender   Masks are hardly Breathable Y...