yet feet,
still to be forgotten,
land as though soldiers,
having marched
for daily ends, tired
but willing, sacrificial
for the means of heads
not needing to be in worry of
their placement, actions,
retirements.
Posts published in “Poems”
how two beakers, distinct,
one
fluid-brought for sound, as in
flowing whistle, while
other
stutter-steps in voice, vocals
as fidgeting as the quick-swift heart–
how they, in unison,
one
before other,
practice/perfect/teach
to be as lovers
in the song,
they, these,
one and other
in a littoral sense,
her bottom-thighs,
riding the warmth
of dress, cotton,
press to cup snug
the linear edge
dropped o’er by
legs
literally shaking, she
swift-caught her heel
to be in place upon
the floor, beneath
bench as though
she knew not
where to sit,
yet sat
f’r sure.
anyone else find it funny how the, “hurricanes,” and, “heat,” won their respective championships, over the, “oilers,” and the, “mavericks”?
To I, sought is she
, who be, by any single wording
, less like herself than likely me
in fumbled search o’r open sea
, as lit by fullest Moon, a ray of ‘flect’on/’re
arched/tight in swim of current, the
beauty more her smile than any vanity.
What is sexy?/alluring?
/intriguing?/desired?
From what thought/what obsession
/what force/what goal/what
does the want of traits come?
To some, meek
is refreshing/susceptible
/allowing of a passings-by
/an inquisition/of a try.
To others, curvatures
, full and trim/a firmness
hollered at to be lusted in.
To few, though many
they be, a discontent/a
master/slave pursued as the.
To you, perhaps, a professional
/pundit, brought to thought
or clarity by means, monetary?
To I, sought is she
, who be, by any single wording
, less like herself than likely me
in fumbled search o’r open sea
, as lit by Moon, a ray of ‘flect’on/’re
. In scrape of shine, flick’ring, she
sells short her wait, but more her beauty.
What is sexy?/alluring?
/intriguing?/desired?
From what thought/what obsession
/what force/what goal/what
does the want of traits come?
To some, meek
is refreshing/susceptible
/allowing of a passings-by
/an inquisition/of a try.
To others, curvatures
, full and trim/a firmness
is lusted for or hollered at.
To few, though many
they be, a discontent/a
master/slave is pursued.
To you, perhaps, a professional
/pundit, brought to thought
or clarity by monetary means?
To I, sought is she
, who by any single wording be
less like herself than likely me
in fumbled search of open sea
as lit by Moon in ray of ‘flectioning
, cast by Sun for troll of re’
, a turn took light by want of need
. And, still, they, who might rightly be
, lend ear or eye to word, unknowing
they be she.
Would you rather be a comet
Traveling at tremendous speeds,
crashing/flashing/scooting by,
shedding/leaving/always coming
back
or would you be content to spin
in stabled motions, affectionately
scouting and rounding by
as though a planet, sitting,
in wait of bumps and bruises
as though waves skirted like
a ship on cruise in find of
the most fantastic voyage
or
would you prefer to be sharpened to,
relinquishing cast for deepest view,
sliding spartan in dance with they you
cannot get away from
yet
or would you wish to be the clearest
marking of the sea, a buoy, weighted,
rushing by in twirl of others’ worlds,
broke to breaking and breaking, still,
lifting to be portal, fixed, burnt of smile
or would you
be opened to purpose
of being here, a
slight sting of pain to be
washed away/let slip,
looked on as though
there’s more to know
than to be seen,
as though
wind breaks not
o’er skin/through hairs/
on back/in breath/loaded,
heavy with the cause of
the lifting sea what-breed/be,
locked for amusement,
spiraled,
twinge of euk’s as prok’s
know more, but, still,
we wonder
what the reason is
and find only calm in
tiring– well,
here’s to the
rush of exciting claims,
here’s to the
rise without know of fail
and here’s
to the worst and the frail/
here’s to the strong and the meek/
here’s to the reality,
welcome,
you’re welcomed here.
‘affectionate’ from the weakerthans’ “affectionate embrace”, ‘spartan’ from val kilmer’s “spartan”, ‘euks as proks’ from isaac asimov’s “the secret of the universe”, ‘to be washed away’ from oasis’ “champagne supernova” and “wonderwall”.
No matter your perception, you are within what is all-encompassing, what is beyond sight and sound and your touch, and only known through cognition, though the others help tremendously.
i’ll put it in a note
“don’t forget me”
squi/rumbles the
unfed, unthought of gut,
though a bit bellow belly
and more to the rear..
clamped, wishy-washy/tight,
the shoulder-high head to side,tilted,
a slant to see as eyes take,
transfer/transform/transmognify
the too-distant touchings
from a universe outside the skin,
the ah-waving hairs of tip
and, lost, i follow, back
inside to wait for chance,
a happy stance i may not know
without.
veins, twisting, tighten, brought fluid with the thought of something more, something outside, yet i am there, on the outside, seeing/feeling/touching/knowing/breathing/intaking all and yet i know nothing of them, except the weather/the calm/the rush of wind on palm from fingers, tracing thought in rabid raze of thinkers’ pace and though i sink farther, i rise, i rain as cloud upon these keys, to know where storm may lead, and though i feel a sense of calm, this rage, this flash, lingers on
to where, i know not, yet go, a hollow vessel, filling, leaking, holding close the image/clear, a brightened path brought close by taken steps/stairs/stares at blank, and dark, at shadow/red of veins
to chris maine: read the first two lines and the last two.