Two half-naked bodies whirling about in the streets. Our thoughts pillowed against soft winds that blow a friendly touch under our skin. To explore love with a stranger is not a sin save for those intentional grins. A shoulder of yours exposed in this light flashed against my eyes. Already a tender friendship with your body. Watching your eyes watch me watching us with calm degrees intending such. Your awkward smile is beautiful because it is sincere. A nervous breeze encircles our waist and words disguise a melody unchaste. To make a love out of meeting you is the same love preceding you each time an effort is made in completing two.

In a room full of pundits and pud-pullers
I just wanna be the poet.
There’s not a ******* thing
that’s wrong with that either.

No, I won’t be that guy reading “Pride and Prejudice”
just so I can get a handle on the *******
zombie movie that’s coming out.

Give me a Mickey Spillane novel
and a slice of pizza.
Give me a Bukowski poem
and a pork chop.

That’s the problem here,
nobody seems to want to recognize their
base nature.

Nobody wants to admit that they still like *****
and *******, a nice ***,
and an amazing pair of blue eyes.

Everyone wants to point out what everyone else
is doing wrong while
hiding behind hashtags and keyboards
like chickenshits.

I’ve had enough of it,
and I’ve narrowed my field of
vision, while widening my perspective
You see, I plan to be the best version
of me that I can be

today

then I’ll do it again tomorrow.

If I knock somebody’s drink in
their lap at some point
in between,
I won’t lose a second’s sleep over it.

I’ll just try to do better on the next pass.

*

-JBClaywell
©2016 P&ZPublications

There's nothing more romantic
          in my eyes
        Than holding your hand
   And talking about our lives
          Because in my mind
The only thing better than the fantasy
        Is the intimacy I feel
  When it's just you and me
            *connecting

After you left
                         I moved to a bigger house
as if I needed more space for my thoughts of you
as if I had the strength to
remember you

I measured the size of each room
and touched every corner
                of that tremendous place
                trying to guess how many moments
                how many of our early mornings
                                                       in embrace
                                                       it would take
                      to repel the shadows of emptiness
                      to turn the color and shade of my contempt

I opened each window
and closed my eyes, shutting out the
                wailing of a so tired heart
                holding the silence
                                              in all its weight