Bodies In Motion Bodies in motion, bodies at rest. Gravity, and at times, second best. Glory days, and return there to night, And the line between proper and right. Easy downhill runs, and uphill slopes. Best of wishes, and fondest of hopes. Daylight savings, and the leaping year, Advance forward, to only time fear. It seemed that he had reasoned it out. That it, hidden in shadows and doubt. And were there rules somehow the broken, The of it, should remain unspoken. Was a truth in this beauty at hand, Only they two could but understand. Bodies in motion, bodies at rest. A new theory, perhaps, they to test? Footprint Call this a footprint, traveled and stepped. A marker humble, bravely inept. Journal of sorts, itinerary. Compass and clock, a where to find me. Like the time capsule concept of old, Warm descriptions of trails, long since cold. Some reflecting sweet walks in the park, Others admitting fear of the dark. Wisdom and insight, a short supply. Those seeking of such, need not apply. Expect not rivers all to run deep, Or the best climbs to must to be steep. To dream, to sleep, to under-achieve. Likewise, notions, a way to retrieve. Call this a footprint, traveled and stepped. Or, words on paper, a record kept. Decades Have quite many decades to pick from, Each with its own notion and income. History neat into ten year chunks, Lined up in rows like old steamer trunks. Remembrances of when stuff occurred, Though, over time, lines often seem blurred. Was it late this, or early the next? Too close the look might leave one perplexed. So overlaps are, thusly, excused, And the concept of almost is used. Relics of pasts, both distant and near Carry thoughts from a relative year. Forming sort of a patchwork of quilt, Where some sense of a recall is built. Have quite many decades to pick from. In all, others were better than some. Bowl A glass bowl on a wooden table, Quiet beginning to this fable. Gathered there, Apple and Good Friend Peach, And various fruits, all neighbors each, Mayor Banana, more brown than green, And young and flirty Sweet Nectarine, Bunched, Seedless Grapes, closely, the long time, And Cousin Orange, who does not rhyme. They’re mourning, in passing, Soft Old Pear. Reverend Melon offers a prayer. Orchard to market, to healthy snack, Amen that these seeds will bring him back. The small congregation joining in, Blessed eternity, to begin. A glass bowl on a wooden table, A family produce heals as able. From Apple’s Journal Proper Black Leather Proper black leather, warm summer night,
Bright chrome, polished metal, sounding right. Left side mirror, and faster than he, Dark hair, dark helmet, face almost see. Dark boots, dark gloves. He fumbles the shift. She passes. Slight turn. Lean and then lift. Clutch, another gear, back in the lane. She’s pulling away, simple and plain. Just that quickly out of sight and gone, To some down the road, and later on. Tail lights and echoes, this is no race. A younger self might have given chase. Life moving by, a wave and a smile, How often goes, this mile after mile. Proper black leather, warm summer night, And another almost but not quite. Motorcycle Stories
0 Comments
Keith Burkholder has been published in Creative Juices, Sol Magazine, Trellis Magazine, Foliate Oak Literary Journal, New Delta Review, Poetry Quarterly, Scarlet Leaf Review, and Birmingham Arts Journal. He has a bachelor's degree in statistics with a minor in mathematics from SUNY at Buffalo (UB). People love to control one anotherWe don't live in a civil world,
Maybe many, many years ago things were different, Nowadays people are lucky to have a true friend, Look at how people treat one another, The money it costs to have a military, And law enforcement, Yet, no one really cares about one's health, Hence, there is no true national health care system, People are abusive, They bully one another, And in the process, don't care, Yet, these same people believe in God, There is no God, And there never was, Evolution is our reality, Look at human behavior, This stems clearly from evolution, Our planet developed from the Big Bang, I can go on and on, People will always control one another, This is just the way it is, Take care, Be good, And again, carpe diem.
Nepharim and The RiderThe Nephilim were on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of man and they bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown. ” (Genesis 6:1–4, ESV) Man from elsewhere riding the roads along ridges, rugged metamorphic rock going somewhere, gripping the wheel, turning trying to turn the world around, traveling hair pin curves, the edge of each crevice a tight rope, he drives mountain after mountain another and another following the spinal cord of convergent tectonic shifts mountains from millennials past, Rider racing, racing night after night to discover the escapee, the at large the previously incarcerated, and others previously unknown, to extract from the shelter of forests an enemy, fugitive who created carnage from annihilation of ancient people, to this day all evil remains the same his anger fuels him , his prey have been makers of genocides, mass murderer of his people of the mountains he trembles a little, recalls the photos of a scene, a web of blood and charred bones, 108 miles from an interstate, Hamlet identified by milepost sign, three boulders past road mile marker 96, left turn descending destination altitude 830 feet above sea level population 120, 63 shot and burned in small church. Meth lab explosion Fugitive at large, believed to be near roadmile 96, Snow falls, white powder snow, wonders the man how steep the road leading down where, down where, down where, wipers articulating his heartbeat, 63 people shot they had a stranger in a church kitchen permitted shelter for just a week, no trouble, a hunter waiting out the storm, church empty until Sundays, something went wrong. in the kitchen, cooking kettle a caldron of the new milnial 53 miles from middle of nowhere interstate, corridor infrequently explored , no cell service, State Police describe clan of mountain people, hunters, lumberjacks, small farms, workers in sawmills, linemen gas or gas and electric company, river guides, fishermen they said it appeared to be a faulty gas line not that newsworthy but someone sent a message proving even Meager lives are meaningful lives, and evidence was overlooked innocently but there was no innocence left mostly overlooked were those lives, lives merciful to others, lives where people loved, lives though those alive mutated, maimed, mangled, marred now deformed as the ridges of the metamorphic Allegheny cliffs, Survivors of the village's hospitality extended to a stranger , thought they themselves considered their offering paltry, inconsequential, insubstantial people as they feel they are perceived by others The Rider and others saw fruitful, content, industrious peaceful, loving, satisfied simple sincere, sanctified Now judged by the outside world, what were they, oh, ("Sure, trying to make some money, they deserved it" or "Lucky it went down out there , not here") Where one world affluence matters more than another, where in one world, old way of life, won't fit with the norm, now no matter -erased absent extinct ended not by boulder, avalanche not disease or drought by penitent The wipers chant a language he does not know the blades echoe a mechanical heartbeat the only sound on this road Here , the marker, man stops, opens window, cold mountain air, snow blowing on his face , his face in the mirror the color of the ash on corpses in the photo On the dash the page with a sketch The penitent one who fed on blood leaving carnage among cottages in poor secluded towns, considered by society unmeritorious of time, of scrutiny or concern Man turns on radio static, crackles, descending into snow, as if ashes of the dead leading him destination unknown fugitives hideout a cabin, a barn, on an unmapped road a turnaround, perhaps it must always be night, this forray, he parks the resentful vehicle turns off his lights opens the door ,a flashlight, cuts branches,covers his jeep At daybreak he will explore ,there below him a shack pale yellow light -should he wait, return to the road, is his igloo camo good, will it keep? As he awaits the dawn other memories drift through his half sleep and other nights when alone he explored a city street rumor held the fugitives had friends to meet, instead the house they planned to rob housed a family of four with many riches inside to keep The woman , when he opened the door and wanted as bride when he saw her he knew she would never lie. From a window above Norwegian Pines she cannot sleep, bright stars, no snow at her home on another mountain peak. Her telescope a vestigial reminder of scholarly endeavors she did complete Jupiter with perennial striations seems as far away as her dreams He is not, she feels, quite so safe. No cell service, no city streets he rides at night, another mission to complete. Constancy his primary trait The mission is immortal always a hunter, always a hunted His hunt becomes imperishable his mission perpetual taking on a life of it's own, his parameters defined, of the other few facts are known He is The Sheriff of Nottingham to some chasing the ultimate thief into the night as the underworld rises, encroaches propagandizes, poisons and decimates His choice to care about those left behind She loves him more than music, more than Jupiter, more than an ocean She left for the forests for him she loves him, it makes her complete She loves him throughout the absence She loves him more than her fear She wonders does he love her more than to leave her as are those he chooses to avenge, through his find, his hunt, the powers of his mind, does he love her more than he cares about those madman would leave behind and will she one day be a woman a good man left behind, will she die in a forest. a wasteland of gray and white under a blue sky away from the ocean a sapphire blue under sun all the time a coastline soft with sand sand the color of snow, sometimes She will love him until the end of time. He saved her family When the men came in through an open window with a smoke bomb then the open door they thundered in "What you in here for" "Damm they are all inside get what you can, " Then "Shut up or die" He came to the door, "If you are hiding these men I have a warrant, stand back," They were not hiding the penitent For hours the club had been inside Rider found her father crawling on the floor, her mother collapsed, cancer patient, who was observed by a club searching for drugs none they wanted, apparently, medications cast aside with more cursing, "What's this for?" in his hand a blood pressure cure. So they raped in rage Justice comes invaders see the man they begin to shake, she barely remembers moments did pass she fell in love with his shin, his shin conquered all of their jin. Her family consider him as God Sent. Her love whorls between obelisks of petrified frozen firs and Norwegian Pine Her love flows through meandering streams, Her loves' metamorphosis became bedrock. He moves mountains a General now, keeps his Riders deep in darkness he follows their drive vigilant eternally over only good sworn to keep. Then treads softly in his home, his world, that is all about him anyone has known The Riders he guides save people they stand side by side. And You and I When this dancing ocean Breaks on bone white sand Under a turquoise sky and you And I When Shadows as thin as palm fronds Appear under the cloudless sky Press our hands into the sand Earth imprints As for the ocean, we make No impression on water at all A splash perhaps You have a location and time as well as a season. Drifting aboard a small craft We are carving Coconuts into masks Waiting for fish to bite. As innocent as trilobites The azure ocean, the turquoise sky Slack white sail, And you And I One fish, one lime and soy Ceviche from the catch Coconut water We equalized ourselves Released the anchor Just wind and water And sky, some fish And time goes by And you And I The Piazza D’Espania Where the architecture marble or stonework carved Into roccocco and lace Were 10, then again Years did go by A chance enounter at the St Moritz Again our parents seated apart With other guests , sipped on wine as A second course was warmed. The Saint Moritz with the interior design Including a manmade stream with bridge and armored guards A pond of carp You claimed the minestrone was the best Asked the M’aitre D to serve us On the bridge, and he did You explained carp were creature We could pet, and we did, From the bridge in the lobby As our parents discovered We made an adorable couple[ “They, “ all four said, That was Us, We were 14 I guess. And you and I returned To their lives, we the gift with which they were blessed, or So everyone said, This pattern of crisscrossing lives Seemed to be netted by A dream catcher, as we would meet By chance on some other city street Just you And I Pleasant conversations, by now our memories A platform for discussion and coffee house Or someplace to rest our feet. Once you said, most would not remember As years did go by of a conversation between children by a fountain, as their parents Sipped campari at different tables nearby There were concerts and again Were You And I You vanished but returned by 10 p,m. At the gates as I left with my friends Gave me a dozen roses, said “I’d like to see you again,” You held a paper, about the draft I gave you a pen, Now we were anchored by places and Numbers would not have to meet by Chance again Lit candles for you took up my pen And time went by for you and I Twenty years you happened to see News of me in some city paper with an award Or something considered merit by a someone With a pen. Came to find me, seemed to Be the jig saw puzzle of life Or destiny. Soon became more Than a “Sometime I’’ ll see you, friend.” It can be your life, It can be your life forever Willfully away from whatever And so indeed we met again You came to Saipan you said Just to find me, we remember more, most Mensan's memories are more like ghosts they come alive as if a film we saw again the world when we met,we were 10, Married you under an azure dome Pacific sky and our Saipan island home I loved you more than atoms hold tight loved by day and loved you at night You loved me in stillness under stars into the deepest parts of all and became we one night the vessel prepared to voyage a short time until fuel and cargo were replenished and in just a few days, The fax sent to me, so briefly said, Kathryn, The Captain is dead. I drown by day and swim in strange seas at night, every day and every night and you and I are still some glue holding me here and away from where God is holding you. For Marcus ℅ His Point in The Fourth Dimension |
Daniel de Culla is a writer, poet, and photographer. He’s member of the Spanish Writers Association, Earthly Writers International Caucus, Poets of the World, (IA) International Authors, Surrealism Art, and others. Director of Gallo Tricolor Review, and Robespierre Review. He participated in many Festivals of Poetry, and Theater in Madrid, Burgos, Berlin, Minden, Hannover and Genève .He has exposed in many galleries from Madrid, Burgos, London, and Amsterdam. He is moving between North Hollywood, Madrid and Burgos; e-mail: gallotricolor@yahoo.com |
WOMAN’ SHOES
Isa G. de Diego, Pic.
Woman’ shoes have a tradition
Of assuming to know
Which side one’s bread
Is buttered.
This is unique
With Feminism, of course.
I suppose that Popes
Makes saints as fritters
Beccause dress
With woman’ shoes.
And also
Women with shoes
Not are second to none.
Of assuming to know
Which side one’s bread
Is buttered.
This is unique
With Feminism, of course.
I suppose that Popes
Makes saints as fritters
Beccause dress
With woman’ shoes.
And also
Women with shoes
Not are second to none.
BLACK FRIDAY
(From The Corvus Review)
“Black Friday”
is a beautiful thief
that on the bus or subway
that carries me
from work to home
kisses me and hugs
and, without me noticing
he opens my bag
and steals my wallet
taking my money
and all the documents
for later, escape fleeing
leaving me alone
badly decomposed
And without boyfriend.
Dammit¡
is a beautiful thief
that on the bus or subway
that carries me
from work to home
kisses me and hugs
and, without me noticing
he opens my bag
and steals my wallet
taking my money
and all the documents
for later, escape fleeing
leaving me alone
badly decomposed
And without boyfriend.
Dammit¡
BOBBY Z is a avid writer and Blogger, also has video’s, audio’s a podcast and has Authored the Book Tales Of The Junkyard Dog. A rather abrupt and unusual Collection of Poems providing insightful and comical commentary on life, the Convergence of the past and the present, and the trails and tribulations of Relationships---BLOG https://talesofthejunkyarddog.wordpress.com BOBBY Z THE JYD, 78 YEAR OLD VET, CANCER SURVIVOR, RECOVERING ALCOHOLIC (41 YEARS) AND ORIGINAL JERSEY CITY 50’S BAD BOY WHO TELLS IT LIKE IT IS FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST. |
THE BELLS FOREVER SHALL TOLL
THE BELLS ARE AGAIN TOLLING..FOR LONG LOST RELATIONSHIPS
LIKE A LOST SHIP IN THE NITE..FOREVER HIDDEN IN TIME.
THE EFFORT TO REBUILD THEM..HAVE BEEN PLAQUED BY RESENT.
LOST FOREVER..NEVER AGAIN TO BE HAD.
SIMILAR TO THE GREAT CLASSICS.. SOME REMAIN FOREVER.
THEN THERE ARE THOSE..THAT JUST DISAPPEAR WITHOUT A TRACE..
RELATIONSHIPS SO SPECIAL..MANY LOCKED AWAY FOREVER.
ONCE THE SPELL IS BROKEN..ONE NEVER REMAINS THE SAME.
THRU-OUT THE AGES..THEY RISE AND FALL.
MANY REMAIN..OTHERS AWAIT THE CALL.
MANY TORTURED FOR EVER... NEVER TO REGAIN WHAT ONCE WAS.
LITTLE TIME TO REAP THE HARVEST..NO TIME TO RECAPTURE THE LOSS.
ONCE THERE WAS JOY, AND MOMENTS OF ETERNAL LOVE.
REMNANTS OF WHAT ONCE WAS..IS ALL THAT REMAINS.
ONCE SOLID AS A ROCK..NOW FRAGILE AS A FAULT.
SILENCE PREVAILS..AS THEY FADE AWAY.
THE BELLS FOREVER SHALL TOLL..AS THEY SLOWLY SLIP AWAY.
ONCE LOST..,MAY NEVER BE AGAIN.
LIKE A LOST SHIP IN THE NITE..FOREVER HIDDEN IN TIME.
THE EFFORT TO REBUILD THEM..HAVE BEEN PLAQUED BY RESENT.
LOST FOREVER..NEVER AGAIN TO BE HAD.
SIMILAR TO THE GREAT CLASSICS.. SOME REMAIN FOREVER.
THEN THERE ARE THOSE..THAT JUST DISAPPEAR WITHOUT A TRACE..
RELATIONSHIPS SO SPECIAL..MANY LOCKED AWAY FOREVER.
ONCE THE SPELL IS BROKEN..ONE NEVER REMAINS THE SAME.
THRU-OUT THE AGES..THEY RISE AND FALL.
MANY REMAIN..OTHERS AWAIT THE CALL.
MANY TORTURED FOR EVER... NEVER TO REGAIN WHAT ONCE WAS.
LITTLE TIME TO REAP THE HARVEST..NO TIME TO RECAPTURE THE LOSS.
ONCE THERE WAS JOY, AND MOMENTS OF ETERNAL LOVE.
REMNANTS OF WHAT ONCE WAS..IS ALL THAT REMAINS.
ONCE SOLID AS A ROCK..NOW FRAGILE AS A FAULT.
SILENCE PREVAILS..AS THEY FADE AWAY.
THE BELLS FOREVER SHALL TOLL..AS THEY SLOWLY SLIP AWAY.
ONCE LOST..,MAY NEVER BE AGAIN.
YESTERDAY’S GONE
Yesterdays gone. Tomorrow will never come.
The Sun can’t shine, Rivers can’t run.
Slowly evaporating, Like the morning dew.
What once was, Will never be.
Excluded from the future, confined to the past
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, Do we really care.
Where have we gone, And where have we been.
Once un-destructible walls, Crumble and fall.
Sleep walking thru life, Unable to perform.
Rising tides, No longer go out or come in.
The light at the end of the tunnel, Now remains dim.
Visions of grandeur, Never again to return.
Exploding emotions, Now Silent and still.
Were we ever here, Or did we ever exist.
Lost forever, Your ship has sailed.
Marooned on a dead end street, Forever alone.
Left at the altar, Consumed with regret.
Yesterday’s gone, Tomorrow will never come.
The Sun can’t shine, Rivers can’t run.
Slowly evaporating, Like the morning dew.
What once was, Will never be.
Excluded from the future, confined to the past
The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, Do we really care.
Where have we gone, And where have we been.
Once un-destructible walls, Crumble and fall.
Sleep walking thru life, Unable to perform.
Rising tides, No longer go out or come in.
The light at the end of the tunnel, Now remains dim.
Visions of grandeur, Never again to return.
Exploding emotions, Now Silent and still.
Were we ever here, Or did we ever exist.
Lost forever, Your ship has sailed.
Marooned on a dead end street, Forever alone.
Left at the altar, Consumed with regret.
Yesterday’s gone, Tomorrow will never come.
TOO OFTEN
TOO OFTEN OUR THOUGHTS.
CONFUSED BY WHAT WE SEE.
TOO OFTEN WERE RUNNING BACKWARDS.
DON’T KNOW WHO WE WANT TO BE.
TOO OFTEN WE CHERISH THE MOMENT.
THEN LET IT SLIP AWAY.
TOO OFTEN WE ATTEMPT TO TALK.
CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT WE WANTED TO SAY.
TOO OFTER WE’RE SEDUCED.
BY FORBIDDEN TREASURES.
TOO OFTEN WE SURRENDER.
TOO IMPOTENT PLEASURES.
TOO OFTEN REALITY.
COMES CRASHING THRU THE DOOR.
TOO OFTEN WERE HELPLESS.
CONFINED TOO THE FLOOR.
TOO OFTEN WERE HELD CAPTIVE.
IN OUR SELF-IMPOSED HELL.
TOO OFTEN WE PLEAD.
RELEASE ME FROM THIS CELL.
TOO OFTEN WE WANDER.
STARING INTO SPACE.
TOO OFTEN WERE AVAILABLE.
THEN GONE WITHOUT A TRACE.
TOO OFTEN OUR HEARTS ARE BROKEN.
WERE ALWAYS WAVING FROM WITHIN.
TO OFTEN TIME HAS RUN OUT.
AND WERE LEFT” PISSING IN THE WIND”
CONFUSED BY WHAT WE SEE.
TOO OFTEN WERE RUNNING BACKWARDS.
DON’T KNOW WHO WE WANT TO BE.
TOO OFTEN WE CHERISH THE MOMENT.
THEN LET IT SLIP AWAY.
TOO OFTEN WE ATTEMPT TO TALK.
CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT WE WANTED TO SAY.
TOO OFTER WE’RE SEDUCED.
BY FORBIDDEN TREASURES.
TOO OFTEN WE SURRENDER.
TOO IMPOTENT PLEASURES.
TOO OFTEN REALITY.
COMES CRASHING THRU THE DOOR.
TOO OFTEN WERE HELPLESS.
CONFINED TOO THE FLOOR.
TOO OFTEN WERE HELD CAPTIVE.
IN OUR SELF-IMPOSED HELL.
TOO OFTEN WE PLEAD.
RELEASE ME FROM THIS CELL.
TOO OFTEN WE WANDER.
STARING INTO SPACE.
TOO OFTEN WERE AVAILABLE.
THEN GONE WITHOUT A TRACE.
TOO OFTEN OUR HEARTS ARE BROKEN.
WERE ALWAYS WAVING FROM WITHIN.
TO OFTEN TIME HAS RUN OUT.
AND WERE LEFT” PISSING IN THE WIND”
WALKING THRU
SCANTLY CLAD.
AND WALKING THRU.
IMAGINARY FLOWERS.
AMONGST THE DEW.
COURAGEOUS MOMENTS.
LEAD YOU ASTRAY.
CONDEMNING YOUR INH IBITIONS.
CAUSING A DELAY.
VISIONS OF TRANQUILITY.
ERACES THE TRACES.
COMPROMISING YOUR DESIRE.
FOR HER GENTLE EMBRACES.
THE PINNACLE OF HER DESIRE.
ESCAPES YOUR CARESSES.
YOUR LEFT WITHOUT THE LUST.
SHE ONLY POSSESSES.
TOTAL DENIAL.
AS HER SCENT DRIFTS AWAY.
RELINGUISHES YOUR BREATH.
SHE’LL RETURN ANOTHER DAY.
AND WALKING THRU.
IMAGINARY FLOWERS.
AMONGST THE DEW.
COURAGEOUS MOMENTS.
LEAD YOU ASTRAY.
CONDEMNING YOUR INH IBITIONS.
CAUSING A DELAY.
VISIONS OF TRANQUILITY.
ERACES THE TRACES.
COMPROMISING YOUR DESIRE.
FOR HER GENTLE EMBRACES.
THE PINNACLE OF HER DESIRE.
ESCAPES YOUR CARESSES.
YOUR LEFT WITHOUT THE LUST.
SHE ONLY POSSESSES.
TOTAL DENIAL.
AS HER SCENT DRIFTS AWAY.
RELINGUISHES YOUR BREATH.
SHE’LL RETURN ANOTHER DAY.
Michael H. Brownstein's latest poetry volume, How Do We Create Love?, was recently released by Cholla Needles Press (2019).
BREATHING IN THE RAINBOW
There's a shotgun in my pocket and a house in my heart,
a somersault in my biceps and a cougar in my calves,
an orgasm in my retinas and sleet in my breath,
a Herculean ego under my shoes and a bright spot in my hair,
and, yes, a click in my jerk and a storm in my twist
Let the music sound off, the wind curl into storm dust.
Let the furies find voice, the water nymphs clothing
Let the Samson's among us know the truth about manes,
the lions within us the heartbeat of gazelles,
the speed of the zebra and the length of giraffe,
and, yes, the quiet peace before the moment of conflict.
a somersault in my biceps and a cougar in my calves,
an orgasm in my retinas and sleet in my breath,
a Herculean ego under my shoes and a bright spot in my hair,
and, yes, a click in my jerk and a storm in my twist
Let the music sound off, the wind curl into storm dust.
Let the furies find voice, the water nymphs clothing
Let the Samson's among us know the truth about manes,
the lions within us the heartbeat of gazelles,
the speed of the zebra and the length of giraffe,
and, yes, the quiet peace before the moment of conflict.
ENDINGS W/ NEW BEGINNINGS
We settle into out of love,
Sit on the wide veranda at sunset,
Look into our world now out of tune,
Touch a finger to a finger to a palm,
Feel a breeze of warmth across our skin,
Rest a head on a shoulder and dream.
Sit on the wide veranda at sunset,
Look into our world now out of tune,
Touch a finger to a finger to a palm,
Feel a breeze of warmth across our skin,
Rest a head on a shoulder and dream.
THE HUG
You warm her head against your chest,
her hair a comfortable home,
her breath your breath,
her skin your skin,
and your hands slip to the small of her back,
pauses.
Your hug her hug.
Curdle me into your cottage cheese cuddle.
Let the Montserrat trade wind blow across us.
Color me day break and brilliance lit.
Sleep dissipates into the glory of flags
and a great calm of salt water
as if the sea of life harvested this touch,
not dry skin, but moist,
not hard skin, but easy,
not sharp and angular, but strong and curved
as if the cigarette you gave up long ago
remained in your hand all of this time
and you have the ability
to take one long drag
filling in all of the spaces
within the pages of a coloring book
bright with the colors of oil in mist.
her hair a comfortable home,
her breath your breath,
her skin your skin,
and your hands slip to the small of her back,
pauses.
Your hug her hug.
Curdle me into your cottage cheese cuddle.
Let the Montserrat trade wind blow across us.
Color me day break and brilliance lit.
Sleep dissipates into the glory of flags
and a great calm of salt water
as if the sea of life harvested this touch,
not dry skin, but moist,
not hard skin, but easy,
not sharp and angular, but strong and curved
as if the cigarette you gave up long ago
remained in your hand all of this time
and you have the ability
to take one long drag
filling in all of the spaces
within the pages of a coloring book
bright with the colors of oil in mist.
Categories
All
ANOUCHEKA GANGABISSOON
BETHEL ABIY
BILLIE MCCORKLE
BOBBY Z
CAITIE BIGGS
CHRISTOPHER BARNES
DANIEL DE CULLA
HONGRI YUAN
HUGH BLANTON
JAMES MULHERN
JOAN CAROL BIRD
KATHRYN STEWART MCDONALD
KEITH BURKHOLDER
KIMBERTH D. OBESO
K SHESHU BABU
LOIS GREENE STONE
MICHAEL H. BROWNSTEIN
M. T. JAMIESON
MYDAVOLU VENKATA SESHA SATHYANARAYANA
NDABA SIBANDA
PRANAB GHOSH
PURBASHA ROY
RACHEL DYAR MCKENZIE
REHANUL HOQUE
ROBIN WYATT DUNN
SUZANNAH KOLBECK