Once he floated; now he stumbles, he struggles for each breath.
It’s like the rumble in the jungle but Ali has little left.
His opponent is relentless, stalking him around the ring.
Is it Liston? Is it Foreman? Who has come to box the king?
Judging from the foe’s ferocity – is the specter Smoking Joe?
Ali does his best to counter his opponent’s crushing blows.
His eyes are nearly swollen shut, but the boxer never cries.
Who thought that Death would come for him in this macabre disguise?
He tries to dance but falters; feeling weakness in his knees.
He feels the K.O. coming as he’s succumbing by degrees.
Ali tumbles to the canvas, he hears the count begin.
but in the bout with Death you never hear the man count "Ten"

Memories are like an object that someone left behind. You have the choice to either throw it away, burn it or place it on a shelf to look at every now and again but please don't hold onto it forever.

We have always had that undeniable type of love
You know?
Whenever asked about one another, our cheeks would turn bright pink
And just as our lips curled upward to smile,
sweet words escaped from our mouth, no matter how tightly we tried to seal our smile
Who ever we ended up talking to
had to think our lover put all the stars in the sky
by the endless praise we gave one another
The kind of love that stained your sheets,
despite how clean they were
Our pictures have voices, next to our smiles you can hear us screaming "I love you...I love you with all I am"
Our voices became love,
we, in everything we do, have become love
The kind of love that made us encounter multiple strangers,
just so they could inform us of our obvious happiness and glee

I hope you never get new sheets
I hope you never bite me out from underneath your fingernails
I hope you never remove my stray hairs from your beard
after a long makeout sesh
I hope we are never apart long enough to where my scent fades out of your clothes

now the word is naked

                                      perched on stone naked

the door is naked
                                     the oncoming figure naked

        stored in space naked

   meant to    contain the naked

                            I try to pry open your  silence  naked

and   caught within the last magnitude of a noise so   naked

            conceived an   outlier    naked

with    an  exact   measurement   that   is distant from  a  scene so   fair  and naked

    
      once  again  uttered  when  ripe   a meaning   naked

     with  the  body   of  an  hourglass   naked

                  whose  residence   is    naked

and an    impedance  of   a futurity   made   naked

                      by a lit   indigo   sky   naked       there are   no   skies   naked

only    clothed     by    a  closed    sheen   when   provoked  turns    naked

              you    are    naked


in  this  performance   from   beginning,    midway,   and   then  finality    naked

      in   a  cavity   meant   for    one   as a womb you   once were   in   naked

     in  your   fetal,  your  styled    font   obscured   how  the   body   contorts      naked

float like a butterfly
sting Heaven like a bee
Muhammad!

Mimosa elders obscure the pink Azalea hillsides , timid Catbirds performing at behest of daybreak , vociferous followers of humid June traipse glistening Canola fields , swirling secrets of country brooks revealed in man-made clearings , Robin mothers boast of endearing Summer
privilege , of  Jasmine , Sugar Pine , Cattail tranquil late morning backdrops with whispering Hill Country breezes* ......