Posts for June 27, 2018 (page 4)

Hey baby,
I would like a Venti mocha Frappuccino,
hold the whip
we’ll save that for the bedroom.

Two feet of counter separates me from him,
yet my barriers feel
compromised.

Hey sexy,
I like that you don’t have a voice right now.
Nothing you have to say is important anyway.

He rubs his crotch over his dark wash jeans,
shirt raising up enough for me to get a peak
at his happy trail.

I bet you are tight
Financially.

Can he imagine kissing my swollen
lips? Taking off my polo covered in coffee stains?
Having to unbutton to see even an inch of skin.

Bisexual?
Prime candidate for a three-some.

He licks his lips, runs his eyes up and down my body.
His teenage boys, uninterested, ignore his unwanted advances.

I bet you like it rough,
Filthy whore

I like the way he screams in my imagination
as steamed milk douses his face.

Holding the dandelion in her hand
Praying silently 
She blew the petals across the land 

pill after pill,
day after day.
take this 
with food.
take this
on an empty
stomach.
this one
makes you
drowsy.
this one
gives you
cramps.
this one
makes you
sweat.
this one
fogs 
your mind.
this one 
is too big
to swallow.
this one is 
so small
you keep
losing it.
this one
keeps you
from
heart attack.
this one
may cause
heart attack.
they all have 
evil names
like
Idebenone
and
Warfarin.

names of 
demons.

these damn pills.

some must be taken
in the morning.
some at dinner.
some just before bed.

Edith gets no rest.

no peace.

only these damn pills.

same picture new surroundings make
the basic glow
the simple pop

they always did
but external limits
a slight bit of tight

the small did nothing
for the soul

                           
           (grandmother   )

All through the first chill days
Of Spring and in the lengthened
Light of summer, the young girl
Sat, a dream in smoke-gray eyes,
Her dark head bent over needle
Above the faint design she wove
In sheerest lawn; her small hands
Quick to form the tiny stitches she
Fashioned in christening robes
For her first born child.
 
“When comes September no royal
Babe shall have such a dress as mine,” 
She said. Her needle true while the dream
Of babe pushed the thread and cloth. 
Her dress, threads of love held finery.

A half a century later as summer spent
Their days of sun: Bertha lay in tranquil
Sleep beneath ancient pines, other hands
Seek out the robes. A tiny Kathleen to be
Born again shall wear the fragile lace.

A gift from yesterday of love and grace.

Test the depth of your color,
dip family photos in cold tea.
Bird and frog bases can pantomime
your construction of a baseball field
in the churchyard next to your house.
Dried flowers from your garden
can pierce the structure of a past.
Evaluate the scene with strength,
test the depth of your color. 

LETTERS TO THE DEAD: 25, 26, 27

6/25/2018

To: the Morris book shop: (2008 – Jan. 2017)

Dear Mr. Wyn,
when I went in
I missed the new sign
THE PRISSY PEACH BOUTIQUE
and yelled
“hey, you got any jack kerouac?”
that smart blond did respond
“I got nothing to offer anybody,
  except my own confusion”

Confused too, Jim

6/26/2018
Holler Poetry Series (2008 – 2016)
to: The Spoken Word

Dear Eric,

we, one hundred times,
tossed our rhymes across the floor
of good old Al’s Bar

Thanks a million, Jim

6/27/2018
T0: Donald Hall (1928 – June 23, 2018)

In the best part of the best day
absorbedness occupies me
from footsole to skulltop.
Hours or minutes or days – who cares?
– lapse without signifying.

From Hawks’ Point on Dividing Ridge, Jim

by day two

to excuse myself to the bedroom is no longer enough
during
this storm
i retreat further in

to the bathroom
where the joists are stronger
and i don’t have to listen to the stories
being thrown around
like plastic balls
of fun times
of luxury vacations
and especially of your trip to
el paso

the bathroom
with the door closed and locked
is where i recall
MY
el paso story
the western
with plot twists
cocaine
child abuse
and escape

Purple Iris, can you tell us why,
upside down, you open to the sky,
spread your legs to dazzle passers-by
with your velvet petals butterflies 
see from far and flutter near to reach,
settling on your hedonist beach
where your stamen rises in the air,
pollen-soaked and seeping, anthers bare,
heady nectar rousing appetites 
on the strangers’ tongues that taste, excite
your pistil, make your stigma moist and sticky 
as some Bumblebob gives you a quickie?
Iris puts it out there, unafraid
of her purple passion to get laid.

Thunder storms smooth out 
The rough edges of the day
Blasting the sharpness
Of branches
Crooked against the blue-grey sky
Grumpy roaring in
Shades of black and
Indigo
Rolling deep growling
Behind pregnant clouds
Relief from swelter
Coloring the ground
Water-mud
The color of gush and puddles.