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Laokos Sep 2020
you've never been
more beautiful
than when i
don't know you

all that
hidden skin
raw furnace

every drop
of light that
kisses your
is an invitation
to rise
like the
sun and shower
you in

every orbit
of your
celestial body
my flames
to lick and
as we spin
through each


so close

threaten my
with eruption
as you
pass by

tipped *******
twelve o'clock
on top
of orchid
petaled hips
perfuming my
garden of

i want to
do to you
what the
bee does
to the lily
Laokos Sep 2020
folding the sirens of
eternity in on themselves
as this scant hour
rebuilds its stage
over and
in the light of my eyes

already there is a perception
of being caught
in a loop - of a lesson
playing out
before a malady
of ignorance

i am free to see it
and i am free
to miss it

it is the long
of the breaching
whale - an exchange
of currents for
the transformation of
sky into
ocean depths

it is
hidden union
in transience

in beautiful
Laokos Sep 2020
listening to
Father John Misty in
pink time

poppy red

with a pleasing
of shadow
within reach


our faint


the universe
ultima Thule
Laokos Aug 2020
i'm no good, but
here I am anyway,
typing words
into poems.

i'm afraid that
all this is
a waste of time.
that I read some
poetry somewhere
long ago and
mistakenly believed
that I too could
do that.

but I can't
help it,
these words still
show up

when they
don't end
Laokos Aug 2020
Displaying myself for the auction of love, I stand poised in the light of anxiety.
     "we'll start the bidding off at ten dollars, do I hear ten dollars?" cries the auctioneer. I run my hands down the buttons of my shirt making sure it's neat and straight. "come now ladies, surely one of you lovely creatures would trade ten dollars worth of paper and cloth for this tall drink of water! Do I hear ten dollars to start the bidding off?" I use the sweat from my palms to tame my hair down. Scanning the crowd from under his sharply slanted brow the crier retreats a step, "alright, how about five, do I hear five dollars?" I put on my brightest smile, conjuring every ounce of good-heartedness I have in me. The room is silent. No hands go up and it's clear that lowering the price of bid won't change it. The auctioneer bangs his gavel and declares 'no-sale,' then gestures for the staff to remove me from the stage. Two sharply dressed men then lead me to the back for 'processing' where I'm told that 'someone will be along shortly.'
     Behind the door is just an alley with dumpsters and trash bags full of glass bottles. They shove me out with a pat on the back where I land right next to another man dressed just like me, only much older.
     "how long you been waiting, pal?" I ask him as I sweep away the garbage from me.
     "any minute now," he says weezingly.
     "come again?" I say.
     "she's going to turn that corner," he says, raising a brittle finger towards the end of the alley. "I've been expecting her for some time now, but you know how women can be, she's probably just doing her hair." he laughed and it turned into a hard cough.
     "look buddy, I don't think..." I begin, but just then a beautiful woman comes around the corner and starts toward the gentleman caller.
     "ha! I told you, didn't I tell you!", he says through a mostly toothless mouth. "My lady, you are truly a vision, just as lovely as I remember!" he proclaims, holding up a bouquet of long-dead flowers. When she reaches the man she pulls out a pistol from her purse and sends one straight through his flowers and into his chest. He falls back into a bed of garbage bags still holding the flowers, his last smile frozen on his face.
     I look at the woman and she winks at me as she puts her pistol away, turns and walks out of the alley. I stand there for a few moments, processing what just happened. Then I bend down and pick up the dead man's flowers, run my hands down the buttons of my shirt and tame my hair. "Did you see that," I think to myself, "she winked at me!" A smile stretches across my face. "I wonder if she's coming back? Better wait here, just in case."
Laokos Aug 2020
newspapers. everywhere.
it was yesterday
when they turned up.
must've been stacks
of them before they
were like this - scattered
throughout the park.

i've thought about
taking a garbage bag down
there and picking them up
there's something
pleasing about watching
them interact with
their new environment;
the way the wind carries
them, the way they spread
out        into       all
       that                     space
as if nothing neatly
arranged wants to
stay that way.

i watch as they attempt to share
their news with the world.
but the trees are silent and
the grass is oblivious.
the print on their pages
means nothing to

i wonder what news the leaves
tell of in a language we don't understand.
of golden and green.
of things passed and
of things to come.

"change," they say.

that is the message they spread
on the wind...
Laokos Jul 2020
i never thought this day would come
with death's dusty pink collar
blooming in senescence as
the goldfinch flies with
exuberant locution.

what tome have you written in your
faulty hand? blameless brokenness
becomes me as
the light of tomorrow's sun
reaches these cracks today.

i'm no puzzle...i walk the line
of cynicism and bitterness
leaving yesterday's
nubile romance face down
in a shallow puddle of rain water in the
street. the sign said 'STOP' and that
was the end of its instruction.
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