Sunday, July 31, 2005
Ready, why not? Put in a come-on as you read.
I’ve been tricked like a rose is picked, but I’m not without my thorns. The morning moon rose to pale blue skies, the untried toreador will get the horns. Set like a red sun’s atmospheric final scenes, I ponder this poem, building what it means. From the rubble of my salvage-yard of broken-down...
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Saturday, July 30, 2005
Autobiography
sure, you have it, like curl has bounce, happy as a pot-head who has just scored an ounce—style sure, you have it, like sad has tears, stoic as a senator whose pension’s in arrears—substance sure, you have it, like music is scored, regular as rhythm, measured in feet, by the bored—patience sure, you...
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Making Mimi (not for public yous!)
It took a few well-chosen words to fly the feisty Mimi’s jet. A rough reception— iced-up wings. Her stony stares would have lost the bet. But bull-in-china-shop store house full of wit kept me in the game; at last I got a hit. Uh… mix and match the metaphors, I know you will not mind the batch; the...
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Friday, July 29, 2005
Personality is currency among the paparazzi.
Breaking (me) in To the sociably noteworthy: Thanks for taking me in. I want so much for you to see, but I’m somewhat shy so please don’t stare. I want so much to be nobody special, but I want to do it with flair. I wait so long to be neglected, but I’m patient that you’ll find me there. I wonder...
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Saturday, July 9, 2005
For Fields Not Yet One
As cold as mice frozen in forsaken fields on February mornings, my heart yields its sullen sorrow to glut all it wields like war’s wan weapons beating down on shields— to glut, I say, its sullen sorrow—pent up like power in a transformer’s coils— upon a frail New Year’s promise misspent like the...
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erstwhile of a bygone era
erstwhile an ingrate, my style is left as a right turn yearning to yield itself to the traditions of a bygone era fair though my soul may be, it is not free burst smiles won’t wait for guile bereft of a slight spurn turning afield from old inventions of a bygone era fair though my soul may be, it is...
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Thursday, July 7, 2005
The Eagle’s in Concert
The room’s full of smoke; I’m feeling so high The music is magic; it fits the mood: What would “Lyin’ Eyes” be without Glen Frey? We melt into rhythm—fair attitude. Breath in the essence of far away smiles. Still, silent chorus of harmony waves goodbye to yesterday miles after miles as we dream of...
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Your Buttressed Soul
Seize the reigns, vain as you are: The power is yours; it will take you far. Short is the day; long is the night; wild is the moon; high as a kite. Fair is your face, as silent you stand, there in your castle built in the sand. Little by little your moat will erode all of the moorings built up by...
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Sunday, July 3, 2005
Who took off your prom dress?
Who took off your prom dress? Was it under duress? Did he make a sensitive show? Did he come quick and go slow? I know this may sound crude, but I want to allow for his attitude. Was he nice? Was he mean? Did he ask for advice? Did he act like Martin Sheen? Who took off your prom dress? Was it Don,...
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Somewhere before the Fall
Ease me into summer with that great big inner tube: Behind your speedboat I’ll be flying through your wake And in the groove. Bring me water for my feet; bring me wine to sip this evening. Over on the beach we’ll linger getting sand between our toes. I will kiss you on your sweet lips. I will bring...
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