dear, dare i
accept
the limits of
a smile
in the heat of
distress,
stripped of prince
gown-
all fashion, no
function,
no comfort in
the nude,
hostile
to seduction-
am behind the
glass flirt
in moods most
perverse.
last strand of season
braided into
next,
which colors beckon
birth?
enwombed in soil,
why stay?
when dream was
to become
bouquet.
blow faux kiss
to flatter
tattered toy talking
without moving
mouth,
moth wing pinned
to pillow
not
casualty of dust
storm
not
without its
charm..
toadstool from
his torpor,
spare me the
stupor
of logic and
order
spoil madness with
meaning.
snowy owl eyes
on campfire
nights,
was winter’s dream
a fever never
to repeat
details
under fingernails,
each flicker face
a snowflake
cracking thin-skin
windshield,
feel the crunch of boots
on diamonds
left not quite as
i found
them
lost stars buried by
the weight of
worries
frame an
end..
most faint and
blurry.
fingers folded over
molding
apple-
into
scrap pit
till further needed,
will pray that dirt
nor decay
completely
claim
it-
dare i
yet
wish to
kiss
it.
seller poorer than
one who
pays,
worse being caged
or the cage?
friends only, firmly
on the fence,
which side hides
that which
mends?
breath returns fresher
than when
sent,
no refunds for
where time
went.
i’d be wise to chase
hisses home,
crack the panes,
unshackle
time,
should i taunt
flames
best contain the
spread of
mine,
sparing cardboard
creatures
guarding arid
acres
miles from
crime.
feigning
calm
on
baited line
braced for
breakneck jerk,
make it painless
as quick
be
it fate
of fightless
fish.
blind uncertainty of
where we
rest
a breath from now
should lungs
consent,
bunkbed’s
top rung’s bent
from loaded
stance
of
bricks named
man
land upon whose
head?
swagger up to
muted
mic
stand side by
pride
with any
fool in room,
name his genius,
curse his
luck-
snicker like his jokes
don’t suck.
hands in the garden 
You must be logged in to post a comment.