#proposition
Here is where unfurling functions best,
Bolts of calico and honest to God purple
Velvet skirted Dine' lady, noble mejor, she
With her Zuni concho belt and squash blossom
Pendant perhaps honoring the blossom, per se
Doubt free, this is us, joined at the verbs,
Linked like fibers in a thread twisted for years,
Followed back, through lists of favorite things,
Inevitably the original grammar **** returns, with a
Vision, made plain as day, once, nations are made of
Us, we the people who use these living words to make
Peace, where none has been, in living memory,
But we pray today, any way, we expect yes, let peace
Reign locally, the whole world gets the idea and
Trumps the fool at the table betting truth is not God.
Sub-rosa, eh, a rose is a rose, Gertrude told me.
The Lie, that all men are not liars, is oft sold little thinkers,
And that is the truth each tells itself, we are chosen ones.
Aug 15, 2025
Aug 15, 2025 at 11:02 AM UTC
Finishing first
- a chapter flash back to Easter
in a Christmas Peace
reconceived past under stood
common sense before the internet
... sufficiently advanced know how
made accessible through this screen
Per one and a hap, laps
at once
sat
before me a Manet,
A boy pfifer, piping
a flat image,
catching
my question, why…
For the uniform
For the Zouave oath
to die before surrender,
Victory or Death,
as a child sent
to war
in the name
of God, by Time
assured the same iota one
assumed just used
to refer
to the God
of the Papal authority,
symbolized
by a cross, or two,
one for Andrew,
one for George, both saints.
in the blue field, left field,
at attention, observe the stripes,
thirteen, indeed so great a cloud
of coincidences, so same so often
money borrowed… jewels loaned
for instance
to forge a suitable crown
to suit the proven winner's incentive
to defend the title, each winter,
each longest night, after
each shortest day, ever
time told true
Allah
In the name of God, the Gracious, the Merciful.
By Time.
Mankind is at a loss.
Except for those who believe,
do good deeds, encourage truth,
and recommend patience.
Waiting is, said Michael Valentine.
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 9:53 PM UTC
You come to me each night
After all the crowds have left.
Never telling me your name.
And I, having stood for hours,
Begin closing down in the glow
Of blues, vermilion and rose
Reflected in plate glass,
From neon names of luxury.
I move to synthetic music
On an old stereo and let my
Eyes play tricks with the light,
The vivid letters and logos
Snake round and dance
Against the incipient night.
Just as I relax, you arrive,
The last one here every time,
As you were on the first.
You no longer pretend to consider
A preference, nor wander
Around, feigning interest in
Things you might not want.
Last night you brought flowers,
Twelve lilies in a Venetian vase.
Now this night you say I should
Dine with you somewhere,
But dinner is a euphemism.
You stand close, even as I turn away,
Occupying my eyes, though still,
I see your dark hair, straight shoulders
And the lean, solid strength of you.
I try not to think of your lion eyes,
Almond-shaped and topaz, that glow
With desire and will show a certainty
About me, lessening your need to ask.
As another song starts, I turn around
And you wait, amused almost.
“I have something for you,”
You say, conspiring with Venus,
And hand me a gift.
“You shouldn’t have,” is automatic
But I unwrap it while suspicion taps
On my shoulder, like a tiny demon.
Surprised, a cascade of softness falls
Through my hands, like pouring cream.
Holding it up, I see an evening gown
And think how strange a gift it is.
But it is as alluring as you,
The cloth is the blush of a thousand
Sunsets that sigh like silk
Dragged across a lover’s limbs
I ignore the thought that this color,
So full of innocence and petal-shades,
Clashes with your dark, consuming insistence
That I feel your desire and can’t turn you away.
You can blend kindness with tenacity,
So I am apt to let you in.
Agreeing to your proposition,
I suggest a dance with me.
I want to hear all the music in the world:
Pianos, violins, qanuns, sitars and humming bass,
With luscious voices luring the darkness inside,
Causing the lights to dance and our feet to move
Into that zone of heat that is riotous now,
That I felt all day, knowing you would come
To me again and I know now what will ensue.
And yet, as my body moves toward you
Without moving, my mind holds back,
Delighting in the wish, prolonging the unfulfilled
And I see in your pained gaze,
Under lids heavy with lust; you feel it too.
Why is it that we think of lovers
More intensely when they are far away,
And are closer to us on a distant shore,
Then, when their arms close round us,
We wish almost to be apart,
So they could reach for us once more?
Based on a dream
March 4, 2021, 12:50 AM
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 4:10 PM UTC
I have a proposition
A small inclination
That we should just stop
And run away from these constraints
That bind us to these pointless repetitive lives
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Dear Emma Watson -
Shall we make love
The object of
Our spiritual quest
Together?
Surely an altogether
Better option
Than pairing you off
In a commentary box
With one John Motson
Discussing twenty two
Pairs of socks
Chasing a piece of leather?
If spiritual questing
Is not for you
I will make do
With tightly tied pairs of shoes
Existential emus,
Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.
Whilst hoping you find
Your Sherlock Holmes,
Miss Watson
I will content myself with
Cataloguing my collection of
Black and white combs.
I also have plots on
Which I need to work -
Wednesday Addams's love of
Moon dried tomatoes
Or Erica Roe
Somewhere in Portugal
Growing sweet potatoes
For sale.
Don't let anyone tell you
There ain't no perks
To being an Omega Male.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC