you tempt me
with your temper
but i have a temperate
response to your tantrum
because a tempest like you
will attempt to ride tandem
if things do not follow through
like you planned them to.
  
© Matthew Harlovic

i fell short of breath
or it fell before me
as i explored your temple
and your décor is quite lovely.

© Matthew Harlovic

i like my women like i like my flowers,
down to earth and she was rooted to the notion.
she sprouted out from under the cracks of paper-white pavement
with tulips curled to the cosmos greeting morning glories
as graciously as angel horns. i was hung up on her like a hollyhock.
she was sweet, fragrant like a balm, mellow like a mallow but she
turned a new leaf and called out to me like coral bells.
i rose like a plume of smoke with whirling butterflies in my belly.
i looked into the iris of her baby blue eyes and asked,
“what’s up buttercup?”
she took a baby’s breath
and “forget-me-not”
stemmed from her bearded-tongue.
though knowing she spoke
out of honesty and passion,
i raised my candytuft cuff
and bade her a clarkia.
farewell to spring

© Matthew Harlovic

will the birds sing or sit in a string discussing theories on a wire?
too tired for repercussions from prior trials by fire,
so they pile the pyre and sing for the choir
while the liars catch wildfire to a dire count of 4-5-1
by a child with a drumstick instead of a thumb in his mouth.
you can hear the percussion through his stomach for crying out loud.
are the parents proud of this juvenile behavior,
have they vowed to reconcile with its nature?
are they beguiled by how it reviles exile
but every now and then goes the extra mile?

© Matthew Harlovic

she colors the cosmos
with brushstrokes
on my brain
as acrylic paint
plunges into my vein.
did you paint me insane?

© Matthew Harlovic

i thought if i bought an owl
and brought it to Athens,
in return i would find
prosperity and compassion.
yet in all my years
i could not predict,
let alone imagine,
knowledge and wisdom
would have gone out of fashion.

© Matthew Harlovic