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It always happens
with the sunset for him;
marital love
at sixes and nines

Memories are now
missing parasols;
canticles of bliss
--emotional screening devices

Chimneys smoke
as a way of laying claim to serendipity;
it's a marriage of conveyance

And their daughters lie in empty fields;
early to the party,
seeking the sun
like a lover

Across his chin
sit scars of the crusade
--the first pain to linger,
the last kiss to haunt

The evocation of his betrothed:
mending her gown
and how she wore the forest
on their wedding day,
but peeled it all off
at his request
that one singular evening

To be naked and shiver;
to be naked and shiver
at the anticipation in his arms

The master of the house
now enters the secret chamber;
and in the throes
of glory-light, he adores
his wife in the carnal means
she likes best
Then all the lights went out.
Silence.
I saw all stars above.
Heard the sounds of nature.
A white bird flying in the dark.
Coocoo calling owl, dogs barking.
Baby cry from afar.
I was at peace.
I had the light within .




Shell✨🐚
A metaphor
I just finished Face Timing with Sunny, one of Lisa and my roommates.
She’s an edgy half-a-laugh, and I can’t wait to see her in person.
Sunny’s a slipa and seductive gadabout - this poem is about her summer:

She’s a treacherous lover whose infidelities could populate
a city of confessions. Apparently, the streets we ignorantly
travel, are crowded with immediate, sordid, physical wants.

And Sunny, she can see them, like blinking neon bar lights,
feel them, like radio waves the rest of us monkeys miss.

Does she ****** the Waffle House waitress (in the restroom),
the professor (in the closet), the Urban Outfitter salesgirl
(dressing room), the dental receptionist (supply room),
the bar girl who rejects everyone else that hits on her
(backroom), or do they ****** her?

“How do you know?” I asked her once.
“I know,” she said, nonchalantly purring like a big, Serengeti cat after a ****. Now, you might ask - it’s legit - how do I know these trysts are real?

Well, at school, she brings a different girl to her room almost every night.
They pass through our common area quietly, on the way to her room.
And, like you and all of us - she carries a camera - and uses it.
Her cloud archive is an ******, deep dive into a hidden America.

Flipping through it leaves me breathless, and I’m not fem-facing.
If she sold it to ‘The Getty’ they’d have to open a new wing.
.
.
Songs for this:
i wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red [E]
Lava by Still Woozy
.
08.16.2:30p
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 08.14.24:
Gadabout: Someone who flits about in social activity for pleasure.

half-a-laugh = someone with a biting humor
slipa = a crazy girl
fem-facing = a girls-girl, a le-boy, a lesbian
~
A mouth to feed
A lawn to mow
I don't feel young anymore
If children were wishes
If their smiles, the family glue
Aureate light would reflect
From the ceiling of my heart
If children were wishes
What would become of you and me?

~
~
How did a dead man in Reno
come to be a field of ink
in the Martian salt flats-?

It only took a whisper

An addicted civilian
driving the metaphor machine
the last man to voluntarily fly
asleep and well hidden
writing about his life
without survival techniques

Autopsy report says
he slipped at the hand rail
blemishing his planet
in riding time's escalator
a longing to see the stars up close
and give them new names
it's the future grim repasts
of cullen shores
from a cancelled earth

That silently floating figure
was a human all along

~
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