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Onoma Apr 2018
with the roundaboutness
of an ill fitted crown,
phrenologically slipshod
as his kingdom.
though not without charm.
courted by the full revolutions
of flies, he sits on a chipped
plastic lawn chair.
weathered dull to its whiteness,
agonizingly rickety when
cast to enthrone.
outflanked by weeds burying
the ***** cut of a lawn, before
an abandoned house.
standing testament, as once was--
the ghost he is, to himself and
his subjects.
dynastic-minded, he shuffles
through succsessors, always
forgetting where he left off.
it's the damnedest thing, the
embodied centrality of being a
king.
the psychic conduit of a people,
spokes to a hub--ground to a halt,
he.
unnerved to limbo, a footfall's
difference the living, and or the
dead.
the people of his kingdom have
come to call him: The King of the Weeds.
always uttered with utmost deference,
midst his overgrown mind.
Onoma Apr 2018
a hand is
impelled to
settle the dust
of vertical
blinds.
i mean--
lifetimes
in the
making.
Onoma Apr 2018
flowering
dogwood--
white.
smoking
stills,
her sun slants
down
an
aisle.
she's walking
through
wedding days.
throwing
petals
at
wind.
Onoma Apr 2018
desire carved a depression
in earth, filling it with
one blind rain.
a flustering pool melting
to the specifications of
your body.
long in advance, careless
come careless drift of you.
such slow steps, heels to
settling toes, underbrush and
trees of all age part your way.
in a wood of no return, silk
more royal than its purple
ran for miles behind its proud
rest of you.
damp breezes curled round
your ******* to whiteout sustenance.
your hair, a netted rainbow combed
by newer, and happier accidents
of color.
your buttocks the preponderance
of the whitest white, the blackest
black magic--fit to rattle a warlocks
hand off his wrist.
your thighs, the long walk of adoration--
before what knees could kneel, and
strong arms embrace.
your back, fierce protectress--spine to your
secret, indelible to patient lover.
now brighter than foreshadow...
Aphrodite comes to a halt, baring her face
three hundred and sixty degrees to the
wood.
every bird swallowing its song, she
face-plants into her pool with outspread arms.
then the sun's first burst--
rouge tints, water alive to
wetness.
the cleft of her peach, the rite of passage
submerged.
Onoma Apr 2018
the build up of silt
in this riverbed,
primed the overflow.
as a hit nerve channeling
itself, scribe to nuances
of ground.
in a rush of emendations
attempting to free will.
sharp as an accusatory
finger point, then handfuls--
things get asymmetrically torn
in half.
Onoma Apr 2018
the needles that threaded

the sod, secure their

green breakthroughs.

by piercing a blue curvature,

all that murmuring thread--

soothes the hypersensitive

ears of flowers.
Onoma Apr 2018
in the jazz of loose
change, front to back
pocket.
tone deaf improv
of streets.
recounting
the same unbearably
new story.
that sells itself.
though for,
cooked too fast for bread.
Xs and Ys in the pudding
of minds, too late--
too great--
to take off
their shades.
hometown curriculum vitae--
jawing gumption,
like no matter, no matter what.
dibs on what falls flat, or
flies...a beat snaps to keep.
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