Lozenge
by Michael R. Burch

When I was closest to love, it did not seem
real at all, but a thing of such tenuous sweetness
it might dissolve in my mouth
like a lozenge of sugar.

When I held you in my arms, I did not feel
our lack of completeness,
knowing how easy it was
for us to cling to each other.

And there were nights when the clouds
sped across the moon’s face,
exposing such rarified brightness
we did not witness

so much as embrace
love’s human appearance.

Keywords/Tags: Love, sweet, sweetness, sugar, melt, melting, dissolve, dissolving, candy, lozenge, confection, tablet, pill, cough drop, capsule, confit, bonbon, honey, sweetie, chocolate

They say that scale can break the laws of science
A crime so high in magnitude
Yet they cannot police
This bully that reality turns out to be

We met by means of tunneling improbabilities
The kiss of a miracle
Punishing the God complex
Of the self-righteous
Because the real laws, unknowable,
Dwell in realms higher than dogmatic notion
Whose knowledge is the surface of an ocean

Hence judgement cannot be
Wrought by the swimmers
And their fear of mortality
That guides them through the waves
And so their laws are the transgression

And We
Are the justice of the storm

Love is never learned
Until it is lost
It's so hard
To forget pain
But it's even harder
To remember sweetness

We bear no scar
To show for happiness
We learn so little
From peace

Why does morning coffee tastes like our bitter yesterdays?
   I added sugar to bring the sweetness back
      while all you do is sugarcoat everything.
            Cigarettes matches  our coffee more than pastry
               maybe we are only destined to be a habit
                     than being a necessity.

sweet sugar, sugar,
enslaver of untame
able-ibility
Artsy Inquisitive
curious seekers of more than you think you knew,
queue up, ya'll, the crow jest called,
then
this is the stream we walked
into the canyon
to find,
in the shade...

Rest with me near,
in your ear, lying tongue of folly formed boy,
heartfelt,
wishing please please me like I think,

oops, therefore I am, according to the rules,
Mosaic,
Cartesian and Euclidean realities
hold me true, so to you,
holder of self-evident truth by birth,
a mind under authority, as old military-minded,
allegiance oath bound men of honor
are,
at this juncture:
grunt-gutgenug, shield-wall, stone-throw-truer
beings such as I, the author
of this moment we share.

This
on a day of some sort of visit at ion ation,
action, touch and
stick,
stretch for ever, as far as we can tell.

Entangled, tied, un-tied, re-tied, entangle means
religamented relegislated regularity of folds,
religion, for short,
twisted into knots which serve
as springs,
for launching
meaning as well met forms of happen stances, poses
occurring by purest of fortuitous concurrence of Sagan events,

suppose, it is you called to position a self you can be

in each of the postures of the fool.

Foolishness is bound to the heart of the child.

Except, out grip-take-grasp, a being of our kind, ye

become as a little, insignificant, child,
a bit
of a bubble of being, getting ***** to the core,
ye cannot see this realm,
seen through
biome-balancing the future,
Prophesee,
he shall be called holy, hermit, hidden-knower,
digester of soiled persuasive sweets,
discovered in worlds under armoires upright folk
never recall, the taste of pepperment cobwebs
with mud pies, and mammamilch, kein moomilch
from the bovine ilk,
save butter.

Butter and honey shall he eat, 'til he know to choose
the good and leave the evil go on by
each day, in its sufficiency.

A glass of milk
in the dorm
with you
tastes like being nine
at the seaside
in my aunt's house
after a long 7 pm sea swim
in the yard
making waffles,
one with chocolate
second one with uncle's peach jam
third one with cherry jam
topped off with a glass of milk
I had to hold with both of my small palms.
A glass of milk
with you
tastes like nostalgia.

i long to be
your first cup of coffee
kissing those
sleepy eyes awake,
whilst you feel the warmth
spread through your bones.
i long to be
the reminder of home
felt with each
gentle mouthful,
now an essential part
of your daily ritual.
i long for you
to spend the day thinking
of when you might
taste me next,
leaving hints of cinnamon
and sweetness on your lips.

Be young and crowd-shy,
harangued by a mother.

Come into your voice
like a mouse sniffing traps.

Your audience is a blind man?
Speak closer.

If nearly blind,
remember to linger on words.

Let the biggest card
buffer your blushes.

And the one you wrote?
Read last like you planned.

It’s what’s expected, sweet one.
Expected most of all.


(C) Garrett Ray Harriman

i wonder what piece of myself
i left with you
to keep:

you,
you,
you,
whom i loved
with the vitality of
spring's awakening;
you,
who made me feel
the warm comfort of green grass
at the bottom of a hospital bed.

we were so young,
so very,
very young:
just babies
learning to talk,
learning to walk,
together.

we were innocent;
we were defenseless
when the pack of wolves came:

they came and snatched you away.

now,
your name shall forever be
on my lips:
you,
in every word i say.

and though you've gone,
and though i ache,
the taste of honey
shall never leave my tongue
for i still love you so.