May 2012
7 posts
boxora's pan / bizarre (czar) shit /...
we kiss and color bliss outside the lines / scholar
blind. we trace sun and bow the rain until sky dances
a prismatic trance. we hope / black isotope in heart
this kaleidoscope of skin, lips apart / we collide / twin
isosceles. this is what happens when black love
becomes anti-coumadin - this collusion of caress:
a high platelet count. a thickening. a quickening.
a beautiful thrombosis. climb...
Poem
Untitled in progress
All this yolk is yours, the universe in my head with its sun on a string, this voyeur bright and visible and feeding on your voice; our hips hinged / And me your second shadow; wow - all this radiance: my yolk, the white, and all the shells. Yours.
6 ODUS FOR THIS NEW ERA
1. regular morning yawn -
i long to play the role of ‘monstrosity’
its the missing link between propaganda
and the modern poet… we useta whet
our tongues for the well-written pathogen
for the droplets of sweat cleft from osmosis
but sadly, there is no terminal abomination
in my future… the poet is dead / long live
“The Dead Poet ©”
2. electronic yawn...
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