poets flood London. the
misunderstanding is marvelous. the fun just smiles with remorse.
we eat Rome. we mimic Greece. we
praise Africa.
she’s a spy. he’s addicted to her.
the mission is compromised.
lions in the arena. fences high.
rings aging with dignity.
a woman, her dreams, her
dedication. a bed filled with paper, so afloat, palming a snare, sipping pearl eggnog.
testing self, the feeling is
fraught by jets, moving quicker—for attraction; money made terrific, pain like
liquid concrete, mourning abstracts.
breath is like shopping,
exhilarating, on a day made particular—it stands out, we make a celebration—maybe
a test, on a stick, a child is coming.
so icy. lacking emotion. analytical
obsession. analytical sex.
growing rapidly. leaving slowly. we
languish after passion.
tar became popular. so much
coldness. so succinct.
a raised leg, a gripped buttock.
the country is filled with secrets.
alike to being correct. it will
happen. maybe on outdated time, antiquated behavior, for gentility is music.
rough so long, it became inverted,
it became a dream.
