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Katja Pullinen May 2019
I love the anothomy and physiology.
I love this language.
That language so familiar and  easy.
I can read it all my day.
I understand every foreigh language word.
Everything so clear and understood.
I love it, it is so interesting and comprehensible.
Lucius Furius Mar 2018
Marco!  One minute you seemed perfectly healthy,
the next you were sprawled on the floor by the drinking
    fountain
like a sack of potatoes.

(How reliable our machinery is usually--
just think if your car ran 60 years nonstop!....)

But, Marco, seeing you there on the floor,
I knew we live at the mercy
of neurons and corpuscles
(our own little wires and pistons)
and when they stop, we stop.
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_077_machinery.MP3 .
Hailyn Suarez May 2017
your cephalic is now distal from my axial
posterior when you used to be anterior
missing our deep talks, instead of superficial ones

your orbital region all but glances at my mammaries
tilting your mental up and away from me
ignoring my lateral buccal

I miss our manus's clenched together at the median
your pollex rubbing my digital
palmer's together

my thoracic lunges at you
trying to grip onto you using all my pericardium
my umbilical region hurts
written at CGCC
Gaius Normanyo Nov 2016
My friend thinks they only need someone to keep them warm during the winter.
If that were true, then I ask simply, “Why do we shiver?"

In the cold, our bodies warm themselves; the muscles jive and twitch.
I assure you, it's not because we have a scratchable relationship itch.

Love is not and can not be a last resort, a temporary relief, an emotion that lasts only but a season.
It thaws the permafrost of life, it's beyond physical warmth, and that's not something you can reason.
10:47 AM - 10:53 AM, 11/18/16
As blood drips,
Pain grips,
Sharp stings and bubbly feelings,
But it is one of the normal dealings.
Clues in the tags
S R Mats May 2015
Antiquity was waiting to breathe
And awaiting the moisture of lungs.

A hole, eyeball wide, offered just a peek;
Along with an ancient mote,
Which flew from eternity into sight.
Remarkable things were seen!

In the heat the buzz was slight.  
As was the bite.  But, ultimately,
The fevers started burning in the night
(For after all, the cobra had eaten the yellow canary).

How your coverings and remains sparkled like the sun!
Thousands of years of hiding suddenly undone.  

But, we all rot together, eventually eaten.
Maggie Emmett Aug 2014
~ for Angela Scuteri ~

Cancer cells bloom and open
their capsules split apart
and spit the pips
on the red tide.

— The End —