"I had to come by"
she said

"I just needed
a hug"
she said

"and maybe
a piece of cheese
and some hard salami"
she smiled

crumbs on her delicious
       lips
nibbling

       my
thumping
       heart
      




Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
Hybristophile or phobe,
I am a neutral probe
Let the gods dance their several dances
And leave me here, alone

No lasso I could muster
Could hug a Hilbert's curve
No human brick or bluster
Could circumscribe a nerve

I feel this way and that,
And do not feel ashamed
I save the things I know, 'til they are
Caught upon the flame

Until they're caught upon the flame, my love
And how do you suppose it makes me feel,
That You should take the things
THAT MAKE ME REAL
When searching for the meaning of my thoughts,
I found a sturdy pedestal of sorts:
That solid fact of history
Yggdrasil in the Earth.

But the strangest echo came
From the miracle of birth.

And down the path behind
The common pattern wants to blur.

And from this evolution
Predictive thought emerged.

So in searching for the meaning of my thoughts,
I stood upon this pedestal, of course
I looked out into the future
And saw that I'm a fool.

Convention makes a man
Into a tool.

We see this is
The only thing we'd do,

But still we're something new
And it keeps us all in school.

When searching for the meaning of my thoughts,
I feel this strangest paradox arise.
I feel the itch inside my rolling eye.

The meaning of my thoughts--
Of course it wants to burst
I want to know what else
Is universed.
Do you remember the songs i improvised
They could get impressive
Brilliant even

I forgot how it goes,
But at least someone heard it.
The bad poems are just my way of saying it's awkward,
It doesn't always fit,
It's difficult sometimes
To know the answer
She really begs a designed man,
Someone with sharp edges
With a defined shape

Chiseled near perfection,
He works his lot
He plows her fields
And speaks too clear--

Too clear for her to deny
Him his skeleton throne
He wields it like knives,
Dresses it with respect.

Here I am designing myself,
A man planning his destiny
And don't think you distracted me
When you're coaxing out the best of me.
Hollowed eyes look disdainfully on curdled blood
On crooked veins and twisted nerves

The clasp of hands might be enough,

But my skin feels fit to burst
Like a monster is knocking on my ribcage.

And what if I told you I had to keep away?

Locked lips sear doubts from my mind
But some vestige of yesterday is left behind
When they pull away
I've got such vivid scenes
Running through my mind
But why

These colors are not supposed to be
With gnarled nerves all spinning free
There is a monster inside of me
And I want to CUT
It out.
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