Sunday
The sphinx riddled
Sphere didn’t idle, it bloomed
And now doom is upon a womb
That is but a plume of smoke
Plunge into a water
Poke about in the sound
Haunted fluid around
She who is bound for home
The dome around a flower
Nothing is sour about
The power of this
Knowing that the fix is here.
Steer in the direction of
A perfection, management
Of savage arrogant negligent means.
The end was a fiend and now he’s clear.
Fist unclenched in a silence
The bliss of release
From the violent urge
To twist a doorknob.
Flow and lob a softball.
Crawl into the maw of the lamb.
Cram some breath,
Slabs are bereft and ready to lean.
Steady and true,
The blue on my wrist
Serves reminders—
Commit to nothing
That creates blinders to its cause.
The laws of nature…
Let’s feature her in the
Missing spot.
Make a lot of mess
To decorate the beast we fought.
Partnership
There is a gentle self knowledge demanding to exist silently
This perfection that is your body and mine
We fought to make it exist
This place where we found that which is inane and non-toxic
And chose to love each other in space
A resting place of mutual respect
Our broken egos bound in tape
Reactions that are grounded in bedrock
Where we dance like we mean it
Bound by blood and obligation.