Monday, April 08, 2013

April & Poetry 8



The astronomer’s daughter
left her diary
open on my lap.

Pulsing witch’s bliss
spit flowers and fire script
over zero gravity strip tease.
The view of evolution
over Lake Shadow owns up
to people who serve your silhouette.

Crafting the perfect cun
and turning the carved key,
spiral nebulae wave we’ve loved.

Enlust the light nut
dark dust of our
neo nuclear fusion.

Sex the Sphinx and ape the
almanac of the Aquarian age with
Sisyphus blackening into bliss.

Up your erotic charisma
with queer quantum
while the Sighing Particles
bed their Cyprian Queens.

Poets reach for numinous metaphors,
but like Creatures of the Seeking Sheets,
we owe no debt to Silence.

Ladies and Transpassionate Triggers,
your leader is mad with lust
and vision.

Her ear is pressed
to the Men’s Room door
while Time takes a leak.

In the holy shadow of ecstasy’s
core, Raven and succubus
speak equal and loose ambrosia.

You’re only as secretive
as your scent and vows
shake the Triangulum Galaxy.

Mind, mud wrestlers and humping stars,
the corset-crowded dreams of
foreign passionaries.

(This post written 
after I’d gone missing 
for days with Brenda 
Shaughnessy’s Interior With 
Sudden Joy.)

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