M Corless
Nov 4, 2012

this is how a
part of my
new self

and i
hook up at
a party, in
November, a bit after Halloween
my costume is stars on black, hers sharp teeth
and sharper lines

she sinks them


I am
so much more
lost than I’d thought
I could be, not with her, not her, not her
not her, but there we were, stealing kisses
burning bruises
onto her

I liked
it enough
to keep going
and i had another her, and a him, as well
i knew things i hadn’t before, somehow
knew what a gasp
did to skin,
to a

i was
just worthless
lost in my lust
and in spirals, finally confirming  
what i thought i’d known, experimental
results for my
eyes, ears and

the levels
of arousal
in a man, in a woman; i learned
how a moan can amplify and set sparks
running down your
back, through your
spine and

took her hand
again, slammed
us into the doorway and hid the light
from her, closed the distance and stole something
she couldn’t take
back from me,
not just

i placed
my hands on
her thighs, drew from
her conclusions enough for a lifetime
skin convulsed under mine; i was in control
could play her like
sin plays man
this, I

know, i
know it still
it isn’t gone
my fingers sing, sometimes; that’s reverie

We stared at the ceiling, blackened
from the absence of light,
air chilling with every breath from the A.C.,
moving closer and closer
because we thought it was what we were supposed to do, but
our electrons were sending spark signals
before our bodies even thought about touching.

Like iron and sulfur, we synthesized
moving into each other's lives,
leaving our pieces behind,
swapping stories and secrets
in the cover of nightfall,
with roaring laughter,
our heads making permanent impressions
on their downy and memory foam petals
in the garden of wishes
we created.

I and followed you to your room,
and back again,
through the drug cartels of Mexico,
to the blizzards that lie beyond The Wall.
You, my greatest adventure
showed me what lay beyond the door
I was always too frightened to open.

You earned a doctorate in my mannerisms,
becoming an expert on each temper tantrum, each shining grin
that you always brought about
on the gloomiest of Wednesdays
when I ran out of milk for my cereal
and overcooked your mac and cheese.

You embraced every flaw I had,
came to love every scar I accumulated,
thirty-eight in total,
from the others,
almost too numerous to count on ten fingers,
that left me with a sewing needle,
and a bottle of Elmer's glue
each time.

And I thought I loved you then, but
not like I love you now, because
now I wake up next to you,
I make both of us coffee, and
push open the curtains
to let in sunlight. And I wake up next to you,
I don't hate Mondays as much anymore.
through the valleys of your sleeping lungs
I found where I belong.

("Untitled," revised)
Nov 6, 2011


Words spill beneath breath-
promise or threat?
Doesn’t matter.


A deathbed-machine mourns, briefly-
before it’s switched off.

Nat Lipstadt
Nat Lipstadt
Feb 21      February 24, 2014

"Don’t urge me to leave you.              "If I could, then I would
To turn back from you.                          I'll go wherever you will go
Wherever you go,                                   Way up high or down low
I will go,                                                   I'll go wherever you will go
And where you stay,                              Run away with my heart
I will stay.                                                 Run away with my hope
Your people will be                                Run away with my love
My people                                                I know now, just quite how
And your God                                         My life and love
my God.                                                   Might still go on
Where you die, I will die,                      In your heart, in your mind
There I will be buried."                          I'll stay with you for all of time"

(Book of Ruth 1:16)                                  (Charlene Soria Lyrics)

Let it be writ,
Let it be sung,
All should know,
This I swear,
Where you are,
So, I shall be too.
Your hope, my hope.
Your heart, my heart.
Life and love,
But one.

Where you run,
I'll shall follow.
Now, today,
If our bodies apart,
If our hands cannot
Grasp each other,
Yet, still,
In your heart,
In your soul,
I will be,
I cannot leave.

Where you are,
So, I shall be too.

Thank you all for loving this poem s much.  I have long thought of the symmetry between Ruth and the lyrics to the song Wherever You Go, when ever I hear them on Pandora....last nite around Two Am I decided to set up the side, by side and then to see what happened...and the merger, the synthesis was the obvious and only solution.
and synthesis
Sa Sa Ra
Sa Sa Ra
Aug 12, 2012

I am that I am
and what is
and the singular
and synthesis
therefor dimensionless...

the synthesis of
Zajan Akia
Zajan Akia
Jun 15, 2012

Isn't that what it's all about,
the synthesis of
discontent and momentum?

defies the unity
of perception,
while time knits
atomic moments into
molecules that thread
perception's needle

The fabric of reality
should be so fortunate
to tear
that it might be patched
with a square of
Pandora's consequence

The chaotic repair
the synthesis of
inertia and bliss

the synthesis
Jun 22, 2013      Jun 23, 2013

Creek trickles under
an old arched bridge
trees rooted feet
have their plenty
on flowing edge..
What is meaning
the synthesis
of these elements
this cool oasis in
afternoon heat..?
A word to satisfy
or simply wordless
each in each
each in all
all in each..
each and all
in other...and...

Historic Manitou
greenstone bridge
built in 1907..
Sansara Justinovich

The dialectic is wisdom
And Believe
Every idea you’ve written
Until the pages are burnt
Because then you’ll know
It was false
It was isolated
The fire licking each morsel
Of knowledge
Makes up wisdom
As our bodies
And time
Hold this word on your tongue
And hear

This poem is a response to anine's "moderation".
Just basic thoughts, so if it could benefit from revision I may consider it.
and if emissions alter synthesis
Henry Sebastian Tobelman

car exhaust exhausting me
cannot be healthy for the tree
who offers us a breath of life
sweet oxygen which we breathe in
but she breathes in what we breathe out
so why not from our muffler spout?
and if emissions alter synthesis
then who's to say what we breathe is?

Henry Sebastian Tobelman 2011
Perfect in their synthesis
Karen Alexander
Jan 27, 2010

Dream-walking I can explore opportunities
Collaborating and engaging in the process
Creating a synergy of thoughts and images
That may or may not stand the test
In the light of day
There’s comfort in dreaming of possibilities
Unblemished notions
Untried hypotheses
Perfect in their synthesis
My secret desires
They fill a need
Until the need is filled.

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