Monday, May 30, 2016

Game Change


The whole game changed.
Light exchanged its secrets in the dark –
the sky was now a jaundiced gray –

no one you had heard explain it all before
could come up with the barest thing to say.
The thing was fucked: a muddy wreck:

devoid of luck. Then you looked up,
around, astounded. There was
beauty in the muck.









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Saturday, May 28, 2016

Bald Evidence


It may be that hairy men
enjoy some subtle yet distinct
advantages the rest of us do not.

Although it may not have to do
with the direct effects on them
of all the hair they’ve got.

But rather that they live as
the deliciously indelicate
reminder of our provenance –

not to say evince bald evidence
of our befurred mammalian
ancient melting pot.

They are what we were.
That can cause
an atavistically erotic stir.





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Friday, May 27, 2016

Unsieved


Some talent and capacity for calm, contentment and the enterprise
of intimacy – amid the roving current of a dangerous desire
to know, a curiosity that can’t not redirect the flow, a needful pulse
whose aim may mainly be to underscore its own raw hunger
and identity: this may be the soul unsieved – the life well-lived.








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Thursday, May 26, 2016

Too Many Hearts


Friends treat friends sometimes as means
to ends, instead of presences with
whom one wants to be.

Abandoning their souls to every random
essence in each other ought to be
their sweetest revelry.

But friends are rare: too many hearts
cannot believe another
heart is there.








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Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Awkward


Today was awkward:
all but squawked toward

equanimity to throw it
off its game. Took great

pleasure in the tameness
of its lameness: hadn’t

any worry or self-scrutiny
as it befuddled down

the drain. Draped its
limbs this way and that –

all fat upon our butts
and arms and backs –

willy nilly leaky boat –
silly sneaky billy goat.





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Tuesday, May 24, 2016

What Conversation Can Be Like


Today they traded all the sordid facts
they knew about whoever they’d encountered

since they last had traded all the sordid facts
they knew about whoever they’d encountered,

thereby demonstrating this:
conversation can be just like piss.










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Monday, May 23, 2016

The Guy on the Right


I feel like the guy on the right.
You’ve told me you’ve felt
like the guy on the right, often, too.

But I never imagined the guy
on the left could be you.











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