 | ||||
| 444px-Antelope_Canyon_Mittags |
120415 12:54
Nude bodies are engaging less so than naked souls, both seen by-the-eye seen/experienced.
In my time, grown where planted, fortunate to survive, felicitous, the infant after me was not.
Scrambled and flushed away--Mother nearly died--a hemorrhage, reprise the barbarians at gates of choice. She never told me. Dad did. But said she to me, he said he wanted, “The Virgin Mary (we Methodist/Baptist borne . . . Imagine?) and a whore.”
i wonder not my love affair; sources/ideas/ideals, potent words copulating across blank all light white space
Nude bodies are engaging less so than naked souls, both seen by-the-eye seen/experienced.
In my time, grown where planted, fortunate to survive, felicitous, the infant after me was not.
Scrambled and flushed away--Mother nearly died--a hemorrhage, reprise the barbarians at gates of choice. She never told me. Dad did. But said she to me, he said he wanted, “The Virgin Mary (we Methodist/Baptist borne . . . Imagine?) and a whore.”
i wonder not my love affair; sources/ideas/ideals, potent words copulating across blank all light white space
reams scrolling up/down the birth chancel seminal.
You’d think that being old now I’d no longer keen either for fleshy intimacy or my androgynous sibling, dead before knowing either me, or i, it.
But then too I wonder wandering these closing days, if 'she'/'he'/‘it’ doesn’t speak through me seeking the meanings of things measured & treasured? So too son and daughters much less the mother of them left long ago.
Teeth fractured on stones, rending robe, ashes upon dust marked by the toe of Jesus before the woman taken in adultery to be stoned.
Move over Job we’re a pair.
Beloved sing me sighs that I may sign others equally, they are adored . . . .
“It takes courage to push yourself to places that you have never been before... to test your limits... to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” --Anais Nin
of sorts & conditions
omissions & sins of commission
awry & absent permission to judge
prejudicially a critic unclothed
Amen
. . . rewrite or molestation? 120415 21:27 The Tax Man, rapacious Bankers, and Home Land Security wait their pound of flesh; slaves are we all.
You’d think that being old now I’d no longer keen either for fleshy intimacy or my androgynous sibling, dead before knowing either me, or i, it.
But then too I wonder wandering these closing days, if 'she'/'he'/‘it’ doesn’t speak through me seeking the meanings of things measured & treasured? So too son and daughters much less the mother of them left long ago.
Teeth fractured on stones, rending robe, ashes upon dust marked by the toe of Jesus before the woman taken in adultery to be stoned.
Move over Job we’re a pair.
Beloved sing me sighs that I may sign others equally, they are adored . . . .
“It takes courage to push yourself to places that you have never been before... to test your limits... to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” --Anais Nin
of sorts & conditions
omissions & sins of commission
awry & absent permission to judge
prejudicially a critic unclothed
Amen
. . . rewrite or molestation? 120415 21:27 The Tax Man, rapacious Bankers, and Home Land Security wait their pound of flesh; slaves are we all.
all power the 99%
No comments:
Post a Comment