Your diaphanous neglige, wrinkled, wadded in your purse
like your intentions.
My sycophantish responses kept latent as well.
We both know what we want but won't bring it to light
The budding of spring is covered
by a thin layer of goose down. This is the marking
of a new life.
The old one passed away with the fall memories.
Death to dinner today to discuss
over lightly salted mashed potatoes
Words are lost in the playing field of love.
like loose change
The maggot words that leave my lips
The spring has come to us like a well kept promise
you and I travel south
to the wind whipped
clay floored deserts of Southern Utah
I just killed off a bottle of wine
found bukowski at the bottom
poetry makes love to you
Cat howls at the open door
Dog meows at the full moon
Human roars upon command
The writer declines a gin martini
I missed your call
you missed my cues
By now we should be old lovers
instead we are young and fresh;
Have you ever seen the magician's trick
where he saws some/one in half?
This is what I feel when you are gone;
severed, cut in halfe, incomplete.
She sat one million miles
but I still knew her.
I comprehend those pale, peach legs;