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Won't you come here love?
I want your lips pressed against mine;
I want you to be the
first sweet thing I taste.
The dose of caffeine
I desperately need upon the rising sun,
the jolt to get me through my day.
The one thing that proves to me;
I don't really need coffee.
-JRM
An arid desert
hanging tear-like in the eye
of an unborn child.

Pouring, the bucket
splashes gifts upon the rich
leaving slaves to starve.

Waking, a dreamer
from lands untouched and unknown;
he sees the madness.
 Nov 2014 Brittany Zedalis
Onoma
Tufted ethereality, angelism of stock and store
pedestrian...alas, circusy.
Helm of streets bob...our supplicant pulls out
a mile or two of scripture from an enormous
pocket.
Fingers ink-blotted with grime, bent forth striding--
a heedless Beethoven tuned in immaculately.
Array's arrival stunned with scurry...planets of
conveyance pull at their elliptical wiring.
Some rare gigantism to the tenth of powers has
touched everything...all he could do from
going where he's arrived is futile.
From time immemorial, he...at present, its full
possessor!
What convoluted theorem of probability will
forcibly eject him from eureka...from where he's
vaporized his wears...naught...naught!
Some precipice's nudge knew best the wind for
his thought to take to, a majestic soar pealing the
spheres to show them their shape.
Life has exemplified its frugal capacity to him--
simmering creation tucked away for one fine day.
He, to outlive the closing energy that dances him,
an immortal...to be handled with care...with
universal intelligence--be, has let him...loosed.
He's broken the code of things in and of themselves...
he's a thing in and of himself--the Unitative factor erupts.
As the credits of glory pull upward...so he as them.
Sometimes
I sit on the floor
and wonder why
I am not
6 feet under.
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