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the supply of words is not inexhaustible

neither are the combinations thereof;

what is inextricably true, of these two linkages

that is not exhaustive, is my endless delight,

in finding the ones that I’ve yet to contemplate

till you brought them waving to my eyes,

so as far as I’m concerned, you originate

delight daily, and that is the spark you create

making every day, the eighth day of creation of the world.






Sat Aug 22
2020
city of flips Jul 16
the best thing you could teach two another

is how to love themselves,
so they can return the favor;
now that would be a refund!
city of flips Jun 26
anthem

we pledge allegiance
to each other, our state
of-just-the-two-of-us,

hands on each other’s
heart, we cocoon, snuggle,
it’s always warm in our land

like Camelot, never rains,
always in agreement, every
votes never tied, for we are

a colorless world, only one,
the color of the day, is what
we feel, create, and believe

we sing only duets, our music,
only perfect pitch harmonies,
this our anthem, sung twice daily

when the sun should rise,
and when it should set, but,
since our sun never leaves

we do it for pure pleasure
some days, I love me my simple.
i love poetry
unto
death or the watch
stops ticking

which ever comes


last.
city of flips Jun 25
our hips fit,
our hands entwine,
fingers unlockable,
laughing twogether,
“mighty fine”
she’s wearing the Levi’s,
I’m wearing the Strauss,
and it looks like we
been stitched together

her hand slides
easy in,
to my back pocket,
smiling
she announces,
we like, fit,
like a wedding announcement,
we fit like,
like an old country song

we see a movie
with our crew,
lights go up,
everybody loved it,
she secretly, her nose
wrinkly wrinkles,
one too long car chase,
my eyes are grinning
from corner to corner,
knowing she’s knowing
i’m all in, full in her
with agreement total

they took us to a tailor,
suits we required,
made to measure,
fit as perfect, as
perfect we be, as
perfect as we were,
matching customized,
white shirts, black tie,
shiny black shoes,
for matching caskets,
everyone saying
we just fit together,
even now,
crying ‘so long,’
for so long,
see you guys
so soon,
you two
fit,
like an old country song, one that everyone knows, all the words.
Serpentine of hard green sheen
Born in hydrothermal’s spleen
Where pressured, metamorphosed plate,
Converged at boundaries’ Vulcan gate
To lay in tumbled disarray
Where octopi and dolphin play.

From olivine and pyroxene
Derived the crystal serpentine
Through Hellfires’ metamorphic fate
Now crystalized to Greenstone state.

There lying in the golden light
Of mountain stream in tumbled sight
Refracting in the morning sun
That glint of green since time begun.

M.
That glint of green, a jade boulder
in the tumbling mirth of a plummeting
mountain stream in New Zealands'
wild Southwest.
Jacksons Bay
Fiordland National Park
June 2017
A explanation delivered to Karinnjinba of the meaning of this poem.

Convergent plate tectonics cause subterranean layers of mineralization to be exposed in the process of mountain formation.
This poem is a celebration of the formation of greenstone through its transitions from from serpentine a glassy green layer situated twixt the continental plate and the mohorovic discontinuity...through exposure to intense heat from nearby magma intrusion and the incredible pressure applied in its upward ****** to the light. The transfer through crystalization, in the heating and cooling of the rock through its passage to its discovery as a water worn boulder in an alpine stream...Greenstone or Jade or Pounamu as the Maori call it....A magnificent, translucent, glassy green rock carved and valued, historically by the maori as cultural taonga and weaponry and valued worldwide as a classic gemstone of metamorphic origin.
M.
city of flips Apr 12
~for John Prine~

she’s eye closed, playing sleepy possum,
so I stealthy stroke her cheek, she, all smiling,
then I nose tickle my sweet-love, now frowning,
till I cease and desist, go back to stroking,
then I’m her good loving man once again

tune comes in my head from out of left field,
start to tap the beat, pic my guitar strings, roaming
all over her smooth features, now she’s all aroused,
cause she knows what I’m about and this strumming,  
why that ain’t allowed, so she knocks my fingers away

later, sneak into the kitchen, she’s fussin’ - could be,
cleaning, could be cooking, but soon she ain’t moving,
cause she’s just listening to the new tune first played
earlier that morn, on her features born, a love song,
calling that song “Playing with My Love’s Face”

now she’s grabbing the biggest knife I ever seen,
waving it to and too close to fro, in my direction general,
waving it like a baton, conducting my song, singing along,
making up her own lyrics, whole stanzas, now it’s her song,
****, if that ain’t “the way the world goes round”
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