Category: poetry
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Musing on Licks
No honey, don’t lick the epoxy.I know it’s sticky.I know it smells sweet.Would be the last treatFor you and me.I know, you would lick it for me.I know, you would. Please honey, don’t lick the wood.Oak and glue are really not goodFor you or for me.I know you would lick it for me.I know, you…
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Entropy and Me
My soul is being crushed by concrete.Step by step across every sidewalk slabReverberations from my feet to my headPulverizing my spirit with unending waves oflifeless gray energy. Weeds sprout and explode from every exposed creviceCeaselessly applying the laws of thermodynamics,A slow war against the cold concrete.I applaud the war. Yet I cringe at the sight…
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The Art Deco Hotel
My room should be dark but instead glows red,Bordello red when it should be graveyard black.The smoke detectors excessively bright running lightTells me it is working, working to keep me awake.The gilt trappings in The Art Deco hotel room,In the opulent Art Deco hotel(curiously built during the dark Depression)Bounce the red light about, assisting the…
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Musings on Licks
No honey, don’t lick the epoxy.I know it’s sticky.I know it smells sweet.Would be the last treatFor you and me.I know, you would lick it for me.I know, you would. Please honey, don’t lick the wood.Oak and glue are really not goodFor you or for me.I know you would lick it for me.I know, you…
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A Vision Puddled in Time
I saw you in a mud puddle the other day.A portal it parted to the yesterday of yesterdays.You and a boat I see floating on the puddle, curiously like a dry twigDrifting and leaving a wakeIn the muddled water like our lives passing through time. I stomp like a toddler on the puddle and expect…
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Mirror Me?
I looked into the mirror and saw you.You are not me.I have not become my friend.I have not become my enemy.I have certainly not become you,Whoever you are. This is not Dorian Gray’s mirror.I am certainly not younger than I seem.You are certainly not older than I seem.But your stare is penetrating and cold.Will I…
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Balloons and Paper Tigers
Balloons and paper tigers imprison meThey chain me with myFears and failures and tenuous futureTo a life of anxiety and paralysis The growling paper tiger claws at theBalloon wall I’ve built around meThe awful noise of the snarling tigerThe popping balloonsMy own inner screamsStartle my sensesJar me into actionTo replace the popped balloonsI believe will…
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Sweet Dreams are Made of You
When sweet dreams of ice cream scoopsSlide from sentimental to erotic andMy feelings glide and rippleback through time and spaceTo you, a you I never really knewBut for a shimmer of a connectionA persistence of a synaptic threadThat should have withered long agoBut there it isA sparkFrom a forgotten memoryA sparkFrom a moment of regretA…